


Illusion

by 0KKULTiC



Series: We Would Be Savage [9]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, College, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Futuristic, Glitches, Illusions, M/M, Multi, Science Fiction, This Is STUPID, computer simulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC
Summary: Kim Hongjoong started his day like any other. Weird dreams aside, he's been doing well as a pilot student at his university. He lives next door to his best friend, humecanis Yunho, and gets to see most of his crew every day at Vintage Cinema Club - their thinly veiled excuse to hang out and eat snacks.He was perfectly fine with the path of his life. Even if a bit boring, he had everything and everyone he loved around him. Then, something catastrophic barged in to ruin it all.Park Seonghwa.It seems like the second he stepped into club, everything went downhill. Between juggling activities fair preparations, social life, family life, work-study, Yeosang acting weird and dealing with Park Seonghwa, Hongjoong doesn't know how he's going toWait... What?
Series: We Would Be Savage [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1339036
Comments: 120
Kudos: 280





	1. Chapter 1

A warm breeze sweeps across the deck of ATEEZ, Kim Hongjoong’s floating galleon. The captain leans on the worn wood of the helm and gazes across the beautiful sky beyond. Fluffy clouds the color of candy floss fill the horizon, backed by a lavender sky. Warm sunlight trickles between the pretty clouds, silhouetting them with golden halos that give them an almost divine quality.

  
Captain Hongjoong takes a deep breath and basks in it. The sensation of elation, the feeling of freedom, of knowing that the sky and all beneath it is just at his fingertips.

“Land ho!” A shout comes down from the crow’s nest.

The captain grins at his lookout, Yeosang. The lookout grins, waving his binoculars.

“Is it-?”

“Yes!” Yeosang points ahead.

Another flurry of utter ecstasy bubbles up inside of the captain’s gut. They found it. They really found it. The maps scrawled across their deck and in the war room are proof enough of their efforts. Though the scrawl and scribblings are myriad, not even the mess they’ve made of the ship can compare to that inside the captain’s mind. Countless nights were spent sleepless, contemplating their collection of maps and the arcane artifacts to discern its true location. He’s efforted for his entire life to find it, that enigmatic thing, the fabled Treasure.

And now, he is on the very cusp of discovering his life’s goal. He can hardly contain himself. Hongjoong dashes down the deck toward the bowsprit. His crew clamors beside him, hanging over the railing to take a gander at the culmination of their goals. 

There it stands, not a click from their position - a little island. From afar, there isn’t much of note. amethyst rock formations, purple palms and mushrooms - standard island flora. He was prepared for that, though. Certainly Treasure would not be so plainly apparent that anyone could find it from the skies.

The crew lets out cheers, embracing one another and gesturing enthusiastically toward the island.

“Everyone, prepare to drop anchor!” Hongjoong demands. 

“Aye!” “Yes, captain!” “Yes, sir!” “Will do!” The loyal crew shuffles around, unravelling rope and securing things per their anchoring procedure. He watches, brimming with satisfaction. How far they had all come - not just the vessel upon which they’re flying, but them as a team. Though they all came from such different walks of life, all eight of them managed to come together under one common mission. They overcame danger and conflicts both internal and external to arrive at their true goal. 

“Preparing to drop anchor, captain!” Wooyoung shouts from the larboard.

“I’m on starboard, captain!” San follows.

“Wait for it!” Hongjoong steers the ship lower. “The sails!”

“Yes, captain!” Yunho shouts, grabbing a rope hanging off of the foremast. 

The little island grows with each passing moment, and Hongjoong briefly worries that they’ll collide with one of the amethyst mountains jutting out of the land. Thankfully, Yunho is adept, and they begin to slow as they descend.

“Drop it now!” Hongjoong orders his crew! The pair of assigned deckhands unravel the chains as they approach. Being an air ship, they prefer to let down their anchors in the shallows of the shore. The large hunks of metal drop unceremoniously toward the ground. The wet “thud” that follows indicates they’d hit their mark. The ship joggles forward momentarily, its instinct to move with the winds bogged down by the anchors.

After a couple of minutes, the wobbling vessel stills.

Anxiousness and excitement well up inside Hongjoong’s chest, so mirthful and whelming he feels fit to burst. He nearly shoves the others out of the way just to be first to the chains. When their feet finally hit the ground, none of them can contain their curiosity any longer. The crew immediately fans out, looking glasses and compasses in hand.

Hongjoong has to steel himself for a second. The sheer happiness surging through him starts to make him lightheaded. He nearly stumbles over. Thankfully, before he can faceplant into the sand into the sand, a voice cuts through his daze.

“Captain! Over here!” It’s Jongho - their crew’s youngest member.

Hongjoong nods. He wrings his hand over his face a few times before following the sound of Jongho’s voice. The captain plods through the sand, squeezing between a large amethyst formation. When he emerges from the rocky corridor, his jaw drops.

The captain gawks. “Holy- Is that-?”

“The Compass! It’s the Compass for sure!” Jongho jumps excitedly, pointing at the massive white Compass lodged in the sand. It must have been sitting there, collecting dust for centuries. 

Hongjoong gasps, “But how is it so-?”

“Pristine?” Mingi finishes the thought. “I don’t know. One would think after millenia in the sand, it would be dilapidated beyond repair, but…”

“It’s totally clean, like it’d just been put there,” Hongjoong says. “There isn’t even a scratch on the glass and- Look! The needle is moving!” The observation is met with a collective gasp, and the others step closer.

“But what does it mean?” Seonghwa mutters absentmindedly. The blond scratches his nape, contemplating the thing.

“Well, it’s a Compass, isn’t it?” San remarks. “Maybe we should follow it?”

“I was about to say the same thing!” Hongjoong declares. “Look- Notice how the needle wavers, but it slightly stills pointing…” His gaze follows the needle through more amethyst crags. “That way. I see no reason to hesitate, so, shall we?”

  
“Yes.” “Yes, sir!” “Yes, captain.” “You’re so right…” The others utter in response.

Hongjoong regards his crew with a smile and a nod before marching off in the direction granted by the Compass itself. He leads his crewmates over and through more amethyst crags until they finally emerge into a clearing.

“It must be close,” Hongjoong says, scanning his surroundings. Iridescent palms paint rainbows on the sand below. Twixt the trees tall white roses grow along with more mushrooms. All well and good, beautiful scenery and whatnot, but not what they need. Hongjoong ventures further in and gasps. “There!”

“Is that a- An hourglass!” Yunho dashes toward the floating timepiece, tail wagging madly. “This is so cool! Oh my gosh! Is this it?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so…”

“Captain- Here!” Yeosang points in the distance.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Over there, that formation is that a-?”

“A cave! Well, shall we?”

“I don’t see why not. Doesn’t seem like there’s much here.”

“Agreed.” Hongjoong turns to his crew, “Come on everyone!”

“Yes!” “Yes, captain!” “Coming!” The others follow their captain as he ventures into the amethyst cave.

Upon entering the cavern, a cool breeze blows over the crew. The light at the entrance trickles in, illuminating the violet foliage draping down from the cave’s ceiling. Long, translucent curtains hang from above, bending light and obscuring the crew beneath a veil of soft lilac tones. The crew’s murmurs echo across the cavern as they venture further and further into its depths.

“Do you see that?” Hongjoong says, voice bouncing across the stone walls loudly. “Up ahead- it’s a light!”

“I do!” “Oh my god, is it-” “It must be!” “Let’s go!” “Oooh!”

“Toward the light!” Hongjoong’s blood starts pumping and he bounds forward. The mysterious light strobes slowly, almost as if it is speaking, beckoning the captain forward. Abstract shapes silhouette against the translucent plants, blurring in Hongjoong’s peripherals. It’s so close. The Treasure is so close. He can feel it inside his bones, his want, his need, the conclusion of everything he’d striven for is just waiting a short distance ahead. His heart pounds and the edges of his vision blurs.

The light grows - stronger, stronger, stronger - until he enters a space full of it. Hongjoong staggers, bumping into the wall behind him. His temples pulse with pain while he strains to adjust to the flooding of light. When he blinks the bleariness out of his eyes, the captain observes the strange place he’d found himself in.

It almost appears… Blank. An empty space, nearly devoid of anything. A few stubborn trees penetrate the white emptiness. Their pale bark nearly blends in with the terrain itself. If not for the bright blooms adorning their branches, Hongjoong probably would’ve missed them. The source of Hongjoong’s near-blindness turns out to be rods of floating light. They glow bright and true, filling the space with light.

“Fan out, everyone. I have a feeling it’s in here,” Hongjoong orders his crew. 

To his surprise, he receives no response.

“Did you guys hear me? I said-” The captain turns on his heel to address his crew more directly, but his thought halts immediately.

Where have they gone?

“Guys?” Hongjoong calls out.

There’s nowhere to hide in the light-filled cavern. If one of them was up to something cheeky, he’d definitely be able to tell. But there’s nobody in sight. Not a single sign of life (save for the plants, of course). 

“Hello?” He tries.

Nothing.

“Hello?”

Not a soul.

“If you guys think this is funny you- hey!”

Something moves in the corner of Hongjoong’s eye. He pivots on his heel and searches for the strange movement. His gaze lands on the path he came from. At first, it appears unremarkable, impossibly dark compared to the almost excessively light-filled cavern he stumbled into. However, as he watches more carefully, he can just barely make out something past the violet curtains.

“Hey!” He calls out to the thing. He assumes it’s a person - he hadn’t seen or heard any type of creature on the way in.

The captain sighs, resigned that he’ll have to go back into the dark, “Hey! You!” 

He steps through the violet veils and casts himself into the strange, obscure light once more. The strange blur of black shuffles about ahead of him.

“Hey! This is not funny! I’ll put all of you on shoe-shining duty if you don’t cut this out!” Hongjoong hollers. He picks up the pace, eyes straining to focus on the silhouette with nothing but the strobing light at his back. He’s grateful that at least his pace is rewarded as he can now definitely say he is following a person.

Though not particularly tall there’s something broad about them.

“Stop! I said- I said stop it!” The captain shouts. He picks up into a full out run, arms flailing out in front of himself to cast aside the strange violet veils. No matter how fast he goes, the other person doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. The excitement he felt earlier starts getting stamped down by consternation.

Where the hell is the crew?

Why are they playing tricks now of all times? When they’re so damn close?

“Alright, I’ve had enough!” Hongjoong sprints toward the silhouette. “It’s time for you to sto-ahh!” His foot catches something, and suddenly he loses control of his body. The laws of physics take over, throwing his body forward.

The captain groans upon collision with the rocky cave floor. He grips the wall nearby to help himself up. He was moderately annoyed before, but now he’s just angry. The person has stopped, at least. A small consolation for what is otherwise an unnecessary setback in their journey.

“Okay, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to- you… You need to…” Hongjoong narrows his eyes. 

The strobing light illuminates the figure before him - at least, it reveals their silhouette. Their utterly odd silhouette. Hongjoong’s eyes go right to the person’s head, upon which a big, wide-brimmed hat is perched.

“Who are you?” He asks.

Hongjoong just barely hears a soft whisper echo across the cave. He can’t make it out, though.

“Wha- What did you say?” He narrows his eyes, trying to better observe the person’s features in the strobing light.

“........s…” The noise is audible but still completely illegible.

“Wha- Who- Who are you?!” Hongjoong demands, using the wall to support himself as he stands up. “You better tell me who you are or else-”

Light strobes, filling the passage more brightly than it had before. Though it lasts for only the quickest of instants, it’s enough for the person to make a lasting impression on Captain Hongjoong.

The stranger is dressed from head to toe in black, their long coat and mask leave little left for identification. Their wide-brimmed hat very nearly covers their eyes. But it doesn’t - just not quite, and that’s enough for Hongjoong to look into them. 

They’re dark, abyssal even in the glow of the bright strobe.

“Open… Your eyes…” The whisper is louder. Though finally loud enough to hear, knowing what the other is saying grants Hongjoong no comfort. On the contrary, it only further twists the nerves tangling in his gut.

“Wha-?”

_ “Open your eyes.” _

* * *

Hongjoong wakes with a start, shooting up panickedly. His hand flies to his throat while he gasps for air.

“Open your eyes.”

“What the-?” Panic spikes in Hongjoong’s chest, and his head whips around, desperately trying to grasp at what’s going on. The room around him is a blur of unfamiliarity. Shelves, a lamp, an incessant voice insisting:

“Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your-”

“What the-?” Hongjoong finally manages to find the source of the droning. It happens to be a literal drone. He blinks confusedly at the bouncy little bot floating about right in his face. The little round bot’s eyes glimmer with blue light, its ears bobbing with its bouncing motion.

“Open your eyes, Hongjoong! It’s the start of another beautiful day.”

“Huh?” Hongjoong grunts dumbly.

“It’s time to wake up!” The bot announces with entirely too much glee. Its eyes flicker, and a beam projects from its eyes displaying the time:

06:13AM GST.

“Wha-?” Joong wrings a hand over his face, still dazed. Though he doesn’t remember what he dreamed of, the aftereffects remain. His chest throbs with a dull ache, and his mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy and cottony in his mouth. “But where am- what is- wha’s-?”

“It’s time to get up!” The gleeful little bot nudges him on the cheek. “Come on! Up, up, up! Today’s your first day back from summer break!”

“Summer- summer break? Hold on, lemme just- wait…” He holds a hand up to hush the busybody bot. He takes a deep breath, then another, and sits still, allowing reality to set back in.

Gradually, everything trickles back to him. He’s sitting up in his bed, inside his bedroom. The walls are lined with built-in shelves stocked with curios. A few slideshow projections adorn the walls along with animated posters and art Hongjoong had made himself. A few articles of clothing are scattered about - but they’re mostly in his closet and dresser. Mostly. 

Glancing out the large window by his bed, he’s met with the barely-there morning light. The sky is still periwinkle, not yet illuminated by the sunfield’s schedule rising. From the second story of his house, he can see the tops of a few trees and the street below. Many houses much like his line the gridrows of the modest subdevelopment. The gray roofs line the horizon like studs on a jacket before receding into the city skyline.

“Today’s weather will be clear with highs of twenty-two and lows of fifteen - make sure to take a light jacket!” The bot, apparently unable to be silent any longer, cheerfully rattles off factoids about the day. Another projection of a to-do list crops up beside the bot. Blocks of color accompanied with text denote the day’s tasks: wake up, breakfast (‘yoghurt smoothie with grain bar’), commute, classes, club, exercise… The young man’s head is nearly sent spinning again at the sheer volume of itemized tasks. “It’s time to get dressed!”

“Oh… Okay,” Hongjoong swings his legs over the side of the bed. The little drone floats over to a large poster on the wall opposite his bed. It’s a print of an old painting depicting a clocktower against the night sky. The drone lets out a soft “beep”, and suddenly the tall poster fades, revealing his closet behind.

Joong stumbles toward his closet, hands reaching for his uniform. He picks out the right pieces based on pure instinct - a crisp, white shirt with the crest for the pilot program embroidered on the shirt pocket and black pants.

“Hongjooong!” A voice drifts into his room - one that most definitely does not belong to the little alarm drone. 

Joong’s head darts in the direction of his door - where it’s coming from. He knows that voice. He’s certain of it. But… From where? It sounds so very familiar yet foreign at the same time.

“Hongjoong!” The person - a woman - calls again.

The university student hesitantly approaches his bedroom door and cracks it open.

The holler again. “Hongjoong! Breakfast is ready! Come down and get something to eat!” 

“Mom?” Without a second thought, Hongjoong dashes out of his door. He rushes down the stairs (nearly wiping out in the process) and practically lunges into the kitchen. For some reason that he can’t explain, his heart is beating so fast he can hardly take it. Something almost suffocating wells up in his chest, a ball of emotion so strongly steeped in joy it makes borders on overwhelming.

There she is, her back to Hongjoong as she prepares something on the kitchen counter. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s got an apron on over her work clothes. The aroma of fresh baked goods drifts into Hongjoong’s nose - the scents of cinnamon and honey hanging heavy in the air, awakening his dull senses. His mouth waters and his heart aches for some strange reason.

“Smells good in here,” A man descending the steps says.

“Dad?” Hongjoong tears his eyes away from his mother to face his father also dressed in his coveralls for work. 

“Son?” The middle-aged man raises his brows and gives Hongjoong an amused grin.

“M-Mom?” Joong turns back toward the kitchen counter, just to make sure she’s there.

Finally, she turns away from the fresh baked batch of grain bars she’d taken out of the oven. She tilts her head curiously at her son.

“Yes, sweetie?”

Yet again, Hongjoong’s body moves by instinct rather than thought. He damn near tackles his own poor mother before pulling her into a tight hug. Though he’s never been particularly affectionate, he can’t suppress the urge to nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. She’s warm and soft and smells like cinnamon and coffee and home.

“I love you so, so much,” Hongjoong says.

“I- I love you, too,” She chuckles.

“Hong,” His dad says, approaching the pair, “Have you been exploring any new recreational drugs that we need to know about?”

“Dad!” The student swiftly switches from his mother to his father, giving his dad the same over-affectionate treatment, squeezing the life out of him. “Good morning.”

“What in the-? Are you feeling alright?” His father asks.

“I- I’m fine,” Hongjoong insists, finally backing off. “I’m fine. Just. Happy to see you is all. I dunno.”

His parents exchange dubious expressions.

“Is there… Anything you want?” His dad ventures.

“No.”

“Honey, are you okay?” His mom leans forward and sweeps a finger across his cheek. She swipes away a tear. 

Hongjoong blinks confusedly. He didn’t even notice that he’d been crying. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. Sorry, just um. Emotional, I guess.”

His mom shakes her head, “Hormones. Even as an adult, those things can still happen. Just because you’re in university doesn’t mean you’re done growing.” 

“I sure hope not. I was hoping he’d get the tall gene in the family,” His father quips.

“What tall gene?” His mom smacks her husband playfully.

Hongjoong laughs at their jabs at one another. Warmth spreads in his chest as if he’d just had a sip of nice hot tea. He can’t explain the strange sensation in his chest, but he knows he likes it. 

“Wait!” Suddenly, all things come to a screeching halt for Hongjoong. An alarm bell rings loudly in his head.

Something is off.

Something is missing.

Or, more properly: someone.

“Where’s Yunho?” He asks with sudden urgency.

Once again, his parents exchange befuddled looks.

“I don’t know. Have you tried the house next door?” His dad answers. “You know, the one that he’s lived in for the past twenty years or so?”

“Huh?” Without asking for further explanation, Hongjoong dashes straight out the front door to see for himself. He runs across the cushiony lawn of green grass straight into the neighbor’s landingport and shouts. “Yunho? Yunho!”

For a second, he’s stricken with the sudden thought of “What am I doing?!”; however, it’s quickly cast aside when a window on the upper floor flies open.

“Oh- ‘Sup, Hong!” A familiar friend hangs out the second story window and waves, tail wagging behind him.

“Yunho!” Hongjoong grins from ear to ear and waves enthusiastically.

“How are you so awake right now?” Yunho asks.

“I- I don’t know. But I’m happy to see you!” 

“Okay, whatever. See you in, like, fifteen minutes!” 

“Y-Yeah! Wait- Why-?”

“Uh. We’re walking to the station- same shit we always do.”

“Language!” A woman’s voice barks from beyond the window.

“Sorry!” “Sorry Auntie!” Yunho and Hongjoong shout sheepishly. The two break down into laughter for a few minutes until Yunho finally ducks back into his house. Hongjoong gives the other a parting wave, excitement surging through him like electricity. His heart is beating so fast - and he can’t even understand why.

He decides not to question a good thing. Instead, he figures it’s best he calm down just a little bit. Stepping back onto his lawn, Hongjoong takes a deep breath and takes a few quiet moments to himself. He gazes idly down the street of their humble suburban locale. A few houses have robots already outside, watering lawns or trimming hedges. Hovercrafts amble down the street at the sluggish mandated speed limit - commuters on their way to work, no doubt.

“Hongjoong!” Joong’s mother calls from the door. He pivots on his heel and smiles at her. “Yes, sweetie, I’m very glad you’re in a good mood this morning, but why don’t you come in and put on actual clothes.”

“O-Oh. Right. Yeah,” The student chuckles sheepishly. He trots in, hoping not too many of the neighbors got a view of his fuzzy socks and rumpled sleeping shirt. 

“Hurry up! You need to catch the shuttle to school! You know how unreliable those things are,” His mother chides him.

“Seriously, one would think with all the technology today those things would run on time,” His dad chimes in.

“Right! Right! I’m going!” Hongjoong runs toward the stairs. He hops up a couple when something abruptly halts him. 

  
His reflection.

“Wh… Red hair?” His jaw drops as he observes his reflection - most notably his short, blazing red hair. He runs a hand through the mussed mop, fascinated with the vividity of the tone. “I’ve always wanted to go red.” He mutters absently. He’s not sure why he said it - after all, he is a redhead.

“You’ve been red for three months now,” His mother sighs. “Seriously-” She turns to her husband, “-what has gotten into him?”

“Beats me. I work with machines, not people,” His dad answers her. “Speaking of which-” 

“I know, I know. Go. Go!”

Hongjoong turns away when the two go in for a goodbye kiss. Even though he’s an adult, it still makes him cringe. His parents are usually cool, but occasionally they have extra sappy moments - the type that a kid really doesn’t want to witness.

The student focuses on getting ready. He gets dressed with haste. His bunny drone helps comb his hair while he pats serums into his face. He decides to oblige the drone’s suggestion and tops the outfit off with a fuzzy cardigan to combat the minor chill in the air. The season is transitioning, and soon it’ll be autolia, the season of harvest and fireside stories.

For now, Hongjoong opts to shelve his fantasies of red noses and hot cider for the present - a.k.a. School. When Hongjoong emerges from his house (after having a grain bar thrown at him by his mother), Yunho is already waiting on the sidewalk. He looks dashing in his uniform. The mechanic department has a dark overshirt. They’re more laid back, though, and let the students wear canvas or denim (lucky bastards).

“What’s with that look on your face?” Yunho asks, a lopsided grin on his face.

“What look?” Joong replies, joining the other’s side. They pick up into a steady stride down the sidewalk. Hongjoong’s walked the route to the shuttle so many times, his body carries him effortlessly, knowing the way on its own.

“That dumb smile,” The humecanis bumps his shoulder against the human’s.

“What? Something wrong with me smiling?”

“Before seven in the morning? Yeah. Usually you’re like undead at this hour. You got a crush I don’t know about? Get a naughty holo from a hottie?” Yunho singsongs jokingly.

“Wha- Oh my god- no.”

“Good.”

  
“Good? Wha- You don’t want me to be happy?”

“No! Good because I’d be pissed if you were messing around with someone and you didn’t tell me, your best friend.”

“Okay, fair. But, has it occurred to you that it is my life and I can do what I want without your express consent?”

“Yeah, but-” The canis fake pouts,”-that’s not very nice… So… Do you-”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “No. I am not currently drooling over anyone, unlike someone I know.”

“Why do I feel targeted by that statement?”

“I dunno. Maybe because you’ve been giving that Venusian polisci guy fuck-eyes for, about, what’s it been-? A month?”

“Fuck-eyes?!” Yunho snorts. “Am not.”

“Yes! Fuck-eyes! You’re not subtle, you know. Your tail is wagging like crazy, by the way.”

  
“D-Dammit! Every time! Can’t even pretend to have a fucking poker face.”

“ _ Language _ , Yunho,” Hong jokes. The dumb jab earns him an elbow in the ribs - luckily, Yunho’s good natured enough not to actually hurt him. (Well, not this time.)

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up while you still can. If you ever fall for someone in the future, just you wait. I’m gonna give you so much crap.”

“If it happens, you’ll be the first to know. Not like I can hide shit from you anyway.”

“Damn right, you can’t. Well, except for today, that is?”

“Today?”

“Yeah. Today. I can’t figure out why you’re so damn  _ chipper _ .”

“Oh,” Hongjoong laughs. “I just- I dunno I guess I’m…” He shrugs. “I’m just really happy today. I feel… Grateful. I- It sounds weird, doesn’t it?”   
  


“Aw. No, that’s nice.”

_ “Beep! Beep!”  _ A shrill mechanical chirping from Hongjoong’s pocket comm interrupts their tender moment. The little node automatically floats up, projecting a small bulletin.

The little robotic voice announces, “Shuttle to Ludere Station departing in five minutes. According to your current position you are approximately two-hundred and fifty meters away. Should you wish to board the shuttle during-”

“Uh-! Dismiss!” Hongjoong waves at the floating node, a wave of panic washing over his relaxed contentment. He and Yunho trade terrified expressions. 

“Run?” The redhead proposes. Yunho nods, and the two of them break out into a full-on sprint to make their shuttle ship.

Even amidst the horrific prospect of missing a shuttle looming over his head, Hongjoong can’t help but feel exhilarated. Something about the mundanity, the familiarity, the simplicity of it all - of his life, his family, and the people around him - it fills him with utter bliss.

* * *

Hongjoong heaves a sigh and lays his head on the desk in front of him. His happy high from the morning has long fetered out, leaving him grasping at the exhaust fumes for energy. His four classes each run over an hour long, and he tries to squeeze in exercise, meals, and study time in between, too. All around him he observes that very many are on the same ship he is - tired, downing caffeinated tonics and dozing over their coursework. It reassures him a little bit that he’s not the only one struggling. Of course, there are always the select few overachievers who bust curves with a smile and a six-pack. Thankfully, the library appears devoid of any of those black holes of self-esteem.

The student stretches languidly in his seat in an attempt to rouse his senses. He wants to go home, but… He’s forgetting something. He’s certain of it. He has to do something.

But what?

As if prompted by his very thoughts, his pocketcomm drifts out of his bag and hovers above his work surface. The redhead raises his brows expectantly at the little robot, waiting for its message.

“Reminder! This is your reminder that you have club activities in thirty minutes. Do you confirm your acknowledgement?”

“They couldn’t have thought of a less wordy way to ask for an ‘okay’?” Hongjoong grumbles.

“If you would like to change my speech patterns, you can go into my settings and adjust them to your liking any time! Do you confirm your acknowledgement?”

Joong narrows his eyes at the thing. He swears that the first bit sounded just a  _ little  _ passive aggressive.

“Yes,” He answers. He’ll let the damn thing get away with it this time. “I’ll show you speech settings.” He grumbles as it slips back into his bag. “Club. Club… I’m in a club. Wait- Where is club?” The absentminded student reaches in again and inquires with the drone. Thankfully, its answer as to the club’s meeting place is concise.

When Hongjoong steps out of the library, his feet take him in the proper direction immediately. Muscle memory guides him toward the meeting spot (a building on the north side of central campus) which allows him to zone out a bit. It’s a clear, pleasant evening. The nice weather has brought out the student body in droves, it seems. People zoom up above on hoverboards and lounge on blankets and floating hammocks. Some people toss discs around while others set up netfields for volleyball. Even if he did make the time to laze on campus, Hongjoong is pretty sure he wouldn’t be among the sporty crowd. Save for the occasional pick-up game of football, he’s more of the indoor, artsy type. He’d probably be under one of the trees with the guitar players and poets. 

Not today, though.

Today, he’s got other activities.

Hongjoong steps into the entry corridor of the very cutely named Building 1024. Panels line the far wall to help students navigate to their target section. It’s empty in the evening, thank goodness. The queues for the panels can get pretty long during peak times.

Joong steps right up to one and punches in the room number into the numbered panel, and prompts pop up on the screen above. A robotic voice orates the words displayed:

“Room input… Confirmed. Party of… One person. Confirmed. Room 1117’s current scheduled activity: Vintage Cinema Club. Readying lift. Projecting barrier field. Please hold onto the railing...”

The floor beneath Hongjoong jostles slightly, and a curved railing emerges from below. A safety field emerges with a glimmer of light, the blue luminescence pulsing to remind him that he’s secure. Once the panel beneath him lifts, it’s a fairly smooth ride. He watches the entry corridor shrink as it takes him up, up, up ten stories. Hong supposes it beats climbing stairs like he has to in older buildings. The modern inputs like 1024 utilize a specialized lift system of sorts. They optimize the space by eliminating real hallways and instead using a grid through which the lifts can navigate. The ones at 1024 can go up to twelve people, but Hongjoong has heard that other places have systems that can load up to fifty! It’s not always practical, but there is something cool about watching a bunch of people on little, personalized hoverlifts floating between the classrooms.

The robotic voice announces,“Approaching Room 1117. Remain still until the platform is at a complete stop. Arriving…”

The hovering platform slowly ambles up to the flank of Room 1117. They part when the hovering platform locks into place, revealing what’s beyond.

“Arrived at Room 1117. Please unload in an orderly fashion. The platform will not move until the sensors…”

Hongjoong steps off before he can hear the rest of the message. He steps into Room 1117 - well, the entryway. Most of the classrooms have a sort of waiting-reception area with seating, bulletin boards and even vending machines sometimes. The actual classroom lies beyond the double doors across from the lift entrance. 

Given that he’s not there waiting for class to start, Joong sees no reason to wait around. He marches onward, throwing the doors open. Though he felt worn out before, the thought of seeing his friends reinvigorates him. 

“Oh! Hi!” “Hey, Hong!” “Hello!” “Look who’s here!” “Hi-hi!”

“Hi, everyone!” Hongjoong responds to the chorus of greetings. He can’t help but smile ear to ear when he looks at everyone lounging around. They quickly turn back to one another and resume chatting about whatever (probably off-topic) thing they’d been chatting about.

The formerly unfounded happiness starts to well up in Hongjoong yet again. But this time he knows why he’s so glad. 

  
It’s because it’s them. His people. They’re all there, together, happy. They’re just shout-talking at one another, laughing, joking, flirting, being inappropriate. Being just  _ them _ .

There’s Yunho, of course, draped over the instructor’s podium, tail wagging madly. Unsurprisingly, he’s drooling over Mingi - the political science major from Venus. He was the talk of their school for a brief spell. Everyone was curious about the Venusian dandy who chose their pedestrian institution over the prestigious ones on Venus. Some people even insisted he was a prince or a noble of some sort, travelling far for anonymity.

In Hongjoong’s opinion, Mingi’s the prince of bullshit and little else. He can barely imagine the guy presiding over preschoolers - let alone a royal court. But that’s neither here nor there. Yunho likes him, and he’s grown on Hongjoong (and the rest of them) too. As unbearable as Yunho is, at least he’s not  _ Wooyoung _ .

The second-year dance student has no shame. Not a  _ single  _ gram of it! He can’t keep his hands off of his pretty little boyfriend for five seconds. Even now-

“You know there are other people here, right?” Hongjoong barks at the couple in the corner.

Wooyoung unlatches himself from his pretty little siren boyfriend, San, and smirks, “They can join, too.” San just giggles, a happy flush tinting his fair cheeks. When Wooyoung nailed a date with the siren, everyone immediately slapped him with the “he’s a real catch” joke. But, in all seriousness, he  _ is  _ a catch. The guy is gorgeous, has a cute personality, and he’s kind. Though he’s had a lot of adjusting to do to their land-dwelling culture, he’s taken it all in stride with a healthy attitude of curiosity. 

Seriously, what is it with his friends and hot exchange students? Sometimes Hongjoong wonders when his hot exchange student will transfer. He’s already a third year. They’re running out of time, dammit! Where are they?

“We have one more coming,” Yeosang - the honest-to-gods brains of the operation - says. He got a full ride for bioaugmentation engineering. A damn well deserved one, considering he made all of his augments when he was a  _ teenager _ . Not only is he smart, but he often serves as Hongjoong’s much-needed bastion of sanity. Him and Jongho, their youngest. 

The first year swipes across a projection of pictures idly. Probably pictures he’d taken earlier - the kid’s a real shutterbug.

“Wait, what do you mean one more?” Hongjoong asks, just realizing what Yeosang said.

“Well…” Yeosang coughs awkwardly. “The university might have, uh, erased our eighth.”

“What?” “They erased our eighth?” “Our baby?”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Hongjoong asks, feeling left out. The others in the club all look at him bemusedly. It’s Yeosang who answers:

“Really? How could you forget about number eight? The definitely-a-real-student we registered as our eight member so we could… Spread the joy of our club with no incentive for funding or university recognition whatsoever.”

“Oh. Right. That eight. Yeah- Duh. Sorry, I was just- brain lapse. Well, what happened?”

“I think they did a system update. Decluttered the student database and, well…”

“Number eight was clutter,” Hongjoong frowns. “Aw.”

“I know.” “So sad.” A couple of the others respond.

“But!” Yeosang claps happily. “I managed to convince a friend of mine to join! Our new initiate should be here soon.”

“Not a very good first impression to make if they’re late,” Hongjoong pouts.

“He has a class that runs a little later. I’d figure it’s fine. Especially considering that we spend half this club dicking around, anyway.”

“What? We do very important work  _ all  _ the time!” Wooyoung feigns offense. He approaches Jongho’s side and drapes himself over the youngest who appears entirely ambivalent. “Isn’t that right Jjong?”

“Mhm,” The other grunts, eyes not leaving his screen.

“See? Jjong agrees!”

“Right, well, we have actual shit to do, so we should get ready,” Yeosang says. “Actually- Captain, why don’t you take the reigns.” He looks at Hongjoong.

“What did you call me?” Something flashes in Hongjoong’s chest. A quick, instantaneous something. It sort of feels like his heart skipping a beat. 

“Captain,” Yeosang’s brows knit together with confusion. “You know ‘cause you’re captain of the club. Or leader or whatever. Why do you look so confused by that?” He chuckles.

“No. No I’m not. Just- just, um- brain. Not working.” Hongjoong laughs it off and approaches the large screen at the front of the classroom. He taps an input pad at the far side, and it comes to life, pale blue light spanning the massive panel. The text reads: “Awaiting signal…”

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to think further than that. His pocketcomm once again drifts out of his bag and approaches his side.

“Ready to initiate club protocols?” It prompts him.

“Uh, yes?” He doesn’t know why it’s more of a question than an answer. The machine obliges regardless.

“Initiating club protocols. Loading meeting docket onto Board-A1117.”

With that, the big screen comes to life. A projection emerges from the large panel with nodes containing text and video. A large header at the top reads:

“VINTAGE CINEMA CLUB”

One textual node lists goals and tasks for the meeting. Another is a roll call for members (with a conspicuous “????” as a placeholder for member number eight). Hongjoong starts skimming the contents of another text node:

_ “ACTIVITIES FAIR 21 DAYS OUT. _ Possible ideas for booths/activity: 

  * maid cafe (woo’s idea)
  * Trivia quiz(?) - yeosang
  * Orgy
  * Send help
  * Raffle off a gift package”



It could definitely use some work, but before Hongjoong can make a comment, the doors part behind him.

_ “Shiff.” _ “Sorry I’m late,” Someone says. They stride in hastily toward Yeosang. The cyborg’s face lights up and he waves toward the new entrant.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet our number eight,” He says.

Hoongjoong’s eyes follow the cyborg’s gesture, and upon seeing the newest addition to the Vintage Cinema Club, his heart drops.

Oh no.

  
It’s  _ him. _

Hongjoong’s guts coil with absolute revulsion at the sight of him. Why, of all people at the university - of all the people in their galactic sector - did he have to be the one that Yeosang enlisted?

“Everyone, this is Park Seonghwa.” Yeosang introduces him with a smile. “Wanna, um, tell us a little about yourself?”

That’s right. Evil has a name, and that name is Park Seonghwa. Hongjoong’s pretty certain that ashy blond undercut hides a pair of devil horns. His heart withers knowing that Seonghwa is going to be their eighth. He has half a mind to protest, but everyone else seems fairly ambivalent, more focused on one another than the prim, pompous blond at the front of the room.

The blond obliges,“Well, uh, like you said, my name is Park Seonghwa. I’m a cyber intelligence major and, uh-” His gaze finds Hongjoong’s, and for a second, his cool exterior falters. He winces, his nose wrinkling ever so slightly as if he smelled something rotten. Hongjoong narrows his eyes, and the two engage in a nonverbal exchange of animosity for a second.

If anyone notices, they don’t say anything, and without a hitch, the CI major continues. “-Uh, yeah. I just. Met Yeosang in a class and thought it’d be cool to join. Um, thank you for having me.”

“Welcome!” Yeosang claps enthusiastically, and everyone else joins along. Hongjoong throws on a constipated looking smile and does the same. Though he is not happy with this development, he refuses to let it ruin his day. It shouldn’t be too bad, he figures. So long as he doesn’t have to look at or hear the other, things should be fine. Right?

Yeosang raises his brows at Hongjoong expectantly, making the third-year remember that he has a job to do. He’s their leader, and it’s up to him to, well, lead. Hongjoong nods and takes his place at the front. After some gentle prodding, he manages to herd the cattle into their seats. He gives the docket board a quick read and starts:

“Well. Uh. Thanks for being here like always, everyone. And, uh, welcome to our new member. I’m sure we can all agree we’re glad to maintain our official organization status with the school. So. Yay!”

“Woo!” San lets out a small cheer in support.

Hongjoong chuckles, “Thanks- Thank you, San. Anyways- our main goal for this meeting is for us to…” He glances at the screen again. “To decide on our activity fair booth! We’ve got twenty-one days - that’s three weeks - to prepare. As you can see, we’ve already pitched in ideas.”

“Some better than others!” Wooyoung interjects, getting a couple of snickers form the group.

“Whatever it is we pick-” Hongjoong continues, ignoring Wooyoung, “-it should attract members and provide some sort of enriching look into the cinema of yesteryear. You know, ‘cause the school loves cultural education shit like that. So, um, any… Any other ideas? Let’s think of this club’s means-”

“You mean paying out of our pocket?” Wooyoung interjects.

“Uh- Yes, exactly. So, whatever it is cannot be too grandiose.”

Jongho remarks, “Well, as the cinema club, wouldn’t a movie event make sense?”

“But it’s an activity fair. That’s not exactly conducive to a regular viewing. We want lots of people stopping in and out,” Yunho responds. “Plus, that’s kind of like our normal club activities, anyway.”

“Um, if I may-” Seonghwa actually raises his hand as if in class. Hongjoong has to school his face into a calm expression, suppressing the grimace he very much wants to give.

“Yes?” Hongjoong prompts the other. Because apparently he needs to take the floor.

“What if, at the booth, we run a screen with… Old PV reels. A recurring loop that will spark interest and tease the season’s viewing schedule.”

The leader tries not to pull a face. It’s… Not a bad idea. Not that he’s about to lavish the guy with praise for it. At least he’s being useful - even if his presence  _ does  _ radiate a pungent aura of haughtiness.

“That’ll draw eyes. How do we get them to talk to us, though?” Hongjoong counters. “We’re not gonna be the only ones running a screen. Sure, the content is unique, but what’ll stop them from gawking and leaving?”

“Me, obviously,” Mingi grins and strikes a pose.

“Thank you, Mingi. Your glowing complexion and tall stature will surely bring people to the club in droves.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, look, we’ll add PV reel to the notes-” As Hongjoong says it, the words appear on another screen panel under “NOTES”, “-but I dunno, I feel like we can do better. We need something more...”

“Yeah, I get that,” Yeosang murmurs.

The leader nods, “We have to think: what makes someone  _ really  _ wanna stick around and talk? Anyone?”

A brief spell of silence falls over the club. They exchange a few murmurs and whispers until, finally, one of them breaks the quiet.

“Food?” Yunho says.

“Dude- Yeah.” “Yeah, food.” “Definitely food.”

“ _ Free _ food,” The canis clarifies.

“Yeah!” “Of course.” “It’s gotta be free.”

“Um-” San cuts in, “-we can home make things! Bulk ingredients are affordable.”

“Ah- That’s a good idea, Sannie!” Wooyoung beams. “I can use the communal kitchen at our dorm to make snacks!”

“What if we did drinks, too?” Mingi asks.

“Is that possible? Wouldn’t that be too much for the budget?” Jongho wonders. “Are we running a restaurant or a cinema club?”

“For the sake of garnering business, why not both? I mean- we normally bring snacks to our viewings anyway,” The Venusian posits.

“That sounds a bit involved, though,” Hongjoong furrows his brow.

“It could be like- like a cafe moment,” Mingi posits. “A little movie cafe. It could emulate the experience of our club in an easy to approach, bite-sized way.”

“We could pre-prepare things so they’re easy to hand out. I think it’ll be cute,” Woo says with a smile.

“Okay, so- I mean, it’ll come out of our pockets,” Hongjoong presses his lips together. No doubt he can spirit a few baking ingredients away from his pantry, but most of the others live in dorms. He’s never comfortable asking people to reach into their coinpurses. “Do you think that’s the best plan, though? I mean- I agree, free food is definitely gonna get attention.”

A few chuckles echo across the vast, empty room.

“Of course we do.” “Yeah, that’s fine.” “Seriously, it’s okay.”

“Hong,” Yunho smiles warmly, “We all want this to succeed. There’s eight of us now - for real - between all of us, I think we can chip in and get something really nice together.”

“Right. Yes, of course, I- thank you. Thank you all,” Hongjoong replies. (He so badly wishes he could tell Seonghwa “except you”, but that would be rude. And he wouldn’t want to be rude to the guy’s  _ face _ .)

“Okay, so. Kind of a… Movie cafe concept - is that good?”

“Yeah.” “Yeah!” “Yes!”

Hongjoong grins with satisfaction. The dizzying high of happiness trickles back into his veins. He feels like a star is twinkling in his chest, its glow warming his body through.

* * *

“Dinner smells great.” Hongjoong beelines it to his dad in the kitchen and gives him a side-hug.

“Thanks. Set the table?”

“Of course! Lemme just drop my bag off and change.”

“Sure thing. Your mother will be home in a few.”

“Awesome!” Hongjoong shouts back as he rushes up the stairs.

He throws his bag into his messy room and disposes of his uniform with similar haste. Less than five minutes later, he’s downstairs in comfy clothing, setting the table as his dad asked. His mother steps in and undergoes a similar routine as he did.

“Table’s set!” Hongjoong proclaims proudly after laying out three place settings.

His father eyes the dining table dubiously, “Hong, you only put three.”

“Uh- Yes?”

“Have you… Forgotten how to count?”

“What?”

“There are six of us, Hongjoong. You, your mother, myself, Yunho, his parents-”

“Wait- The Jeongs are eating dinner with us tonight?”

“...Hongjoong. They eat with us… Every night. Well, not literally every night, but most nights. Ninety-percent of nights.”

“...Oh,” Hongjoong’s head suddenly goes vacant. Every night. They eat as a family unit every night?

How…

How could he forget something like that?

His heart dips, concerned about his own apparent memory lapses. They’ve been happening often, it seems. Why?

Before he can reflect on it any further, a loud noise interrupts his reflection. A cacophonic chorus of hellos and warm greetings echoes across the open living space. Hongjoong forgets everything he’d just been thinking about, mind utterly empty at the sight of his aunt and uncle.

The Jeongs treat him like another son (or even better, Yunho would allege). Hongjoong finds himself in a tangle of outstretched arms and wagging tails. Yunho’s mother sets a massive platter of grilled meats on the table to accompany the Kims’ stew and rice. The delectable spread makes Hongjoong’s mouth water, and he happily heaps his plate the second it’s deemed acceptable.

  
Everything progresses in a dizzying blur of happiness, banter, and animated conversation. Their parents ask about their school days. Yunho talks about his flight simulator glitching and Hongjoong informs everyone of his upcoming midterms. They tease one another and talk about what’s on the news or the new shows. Mr. Jeong talks about an idol group (“They’re hot with you kids, right?”) that has a catchy single out he likes, and Hong’s mother fondly remembers her hardcore fangirling day, bragging about how she used freebie posters like wallpaper. When Hoongjoong is just about ready to burst, his mom starts plating up fruit for dessert - and, what is he going to do? Say no?

Hongjoong isn’t quite certain how he manages to get up the stairs. Though the Jeongs said goodbye about ten minutes prior, they still haven’t gone beyond the door jamb. He figures they’ll say bye another three times before actually going into their house.

Hong knows he shouldn’t fall asleep too early, but he feels so… Sated. He can’t possibly think of anything else he would want from his day. He made good progress on his coursework during the day, so he doesn’t need to work on it now. He could game with a few friends or meet up in virtual space, but he’s kidding himself if he says he has the energy.

He takes a bath to stave off sleep, but it only serves to make him even more tired. 

So, clean and utterly satisfied, he throws in the towel and lays down in bed.

“I’m going to bed,” He mutters. Prompted by the command, his little droid flickers in response, rattling off the next day’s alarm and tasks. It picks a spot on the window ledge next to Hongjoong’s bed for its resting place.

Hongjoong sighs happily, wiggling around to cuddle in his plush duvet. When he finds a position that feels just right, another spark of joy courses through his body. The window right next to him gives him a view of the houses and the night sky. Little cubes of yellow light paint the horizon beyond his view. Beneath the night sky, the houses look cute and quaint, all organized, an assembly of glowing squares. Above it, stars span the sky, tiny, beautiful, imperfect. A couple gleam brightly while others are tiny, barely visible flickers. Sometimes, he wishes he had a moon to gaze upon, but his planet doesn’t have one.

For some reason, his eyes start stinging with heat.

Tears well up from a place Hongjoong doesn’t quite know. He can only conclude that they’re joyful ones, because he’s so, so content. He doesn’t think himself very emotional, but the more he dwells on it, the more teary-eyed he becomes. 

Everything just feels so nice. In spite of his obligations and anxieties, he feels so utterly lucky to inhabit the life that he’s been given.

Hongjoong sniffs loudly, trying to hold back tears.

His eyelids get heavier by the second. Something passes through his mind in his last moments of consciousness. For some strange reason, he gets the feeling that he’s forgotten something.

But, for the life of him, he can’t remember what.


	2. Chapter 2

Footsteps echo on the metal floor. Chatter buzzes among them, low and dull like rain hitting a windowpane. Hongjoong can hear them speaking, see the faint, blurry shapes part their lips, but he cannot understand them. 

They are walking in a group, and the feeling is familiar.

A sign flashes - saturated neon colors projected to the masses. They beckon passers-by, but not Hongjoong. He is on a mission. There is a task at hand - though he cannot recall it, the necessity is imprinted in him. It guides his feet toward their destination in the large waystation. 

_ We should be out there _ , he thinks, gazing out a nearby window at the stars. But something has stopped them, and now they’re in a waystation.

Why are they there?

Where are they going?

What is their mission?

“Open your eyes,” A voice says.

Hongjoong halts, though the others continue.

“Open your eyes,” It demands again, echoing down the metal corridor.

Pressure balloons in Hongjoong’s chest. It weighs on his heart, tainting his contentment with confusion, desperation. His stomach lurches, and suddenly, in an instant, he feels that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

“Open your eyes.”

But what does that mean?

“Open your eyes.”

The anxiety continues to spread, welding Hongjoong in place. He can’t open his mouth. He can’t breathe. His chest throbs, aching for air that his body refuses to draw in.

“Open your eyes.”

Hongjoong begins to feel lightheaded, venomous panic surging through his veins. That crew he’d been walking with is nothing but a blur now, a collection of shifting shadows. The obscure silhouettes in the distance very nearly meld into one single, malevolent entity.

All Hongjoong can process is dread. His body stops moving, all the while the voice demands…

* * *

“Open your eyes!”

Hongjoong shoots up in bed, heaving for air.

“It’s time to wake up, Hongjoong!” His alarm droid singsongs, entirely too chipper for the early hours.

It takes him a couple of minutes to remember where exactly he is. He clutches his sheets weakly as the panic gradually begins to subside. Whatever cold sweat he’d awoken with begins to chill him to the bone. He clings to his blankets, willing the remnants of the stress dream to trickle out of his body.

“Judging by your heart rate, it appears you had a stressful dream!” The adorable (and annoying) droid comments. “Did you have a nightmare or anxiety dream? Would you like to report it to your dream log?”

“U-Uhm. N-No,” Hongjoong mutters. “No thank you…” It’s not as if it’d be of much use anyway. He can’t even remember what had put him in such a panic in the first place. The weary student sighs and wrings a hand through his sweat-matted hair. He gives himself a few more minutes in bed, allowing time for his heartbeat to slow down a bit. 

He cannot for the life of him remember what his dream was about. No matter how hard he tries, the vision eludes him. It’s nothing but a faint, lingering sensation of dread. He supposes that it’s probably for the best that he can’t, but one would think that such a terrible vision would leave a memorable impression.

“Would you like a rundown of the day’s tasks?” The little bunny bot asks.

“Um, sure. Yeah, that’s fine,” Hongjoong replies. He nods along with the list as the drone rattles items off. None of the information really processes. Even so, he obliges the bot with a few affirmative sounds while its lists go in one ear and out the other.

“Hongjoong, breakfast!” His mother’s voice drifts in through the closed door of his bedroom.

“Uh- Coming!” He calls back. His brain feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. He’s glad his routine is so damn repetitive; it makes it all the easier for his body to go through the motions without him while his mind plays catch-up.

Everything is sluggish that morning. His mom mentions something about him being back to his “morning zombie self” as he sits down for a quick breakfast. He feels full after two bites and stumbles out of the front door dazedly.

“You look like shit,” Yunho kindly comments. Even though it’s the ass crack of dawn, his golden tail is wagging cheerily.

“Thanks,” Hongjoong murmurs. He lets out a yawn, the type that stretches through the entire body. It makes him yearn for sleep and the comfort of his bed. It’s strange - he remembers falling asleep quite early, yet he feels terribly unrested. He wonders if it’s stress about midterms robbing him of quality sleep, or maybe it’s club. There was a strange dream about… Something. He already forgets it.

“Hey, man, you good?” Yunho’s voice permeates Hongjoong’s thoughts.

The redhead raises his brows confusedly at the other.

“Huh?” He responds.

“Are you okay? You seem sort of out of it this morning.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. What’s the matter? You have an expired yogurt again?”

That almost gets a chuckle out of the redhead. Too bad he doesn’t remember the aforementioned incident. It definitely sounds like something stupid he would do. Maybe it’s for the best, he muses. Bad yogurt seems like something that would lead to bad memories.

“No, I- I guess I just didn’t sleep very well.”

“Oh.” Yunho pouts and squeezes Joong’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sorry.”

“Eh. No big deal.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, okay? You’ve got nothing to worry about. Everything is gonna be okay.”

“Thanks.” Hongjoong smiles weakly at the other. It warms his exhausted heart to know the other cares so much.

Everything is gonna be okay.

He repeats the mantra to himself as they pass through the payment sensors into the station. He reminds himself again when the shuttle lifts off, high into the sky, carrying dozens of commuters toward the city far beyond. When the two part, Yunho doing so with a wagging tail and warm smile, Hongjoong tells himself again: everything is gonna be okay.

Why wouldn’t it be?

* * *

Hongjoong squints at the text displayed on his computer screen. He feels like he’d been staring at it for an hour when it’s probably closer to five minutes. The physics equation is starting to blur into nonsense - numbers, letters and other symbols smearing in his vision. He’s never been the most math-minded, but he knew he’d have to know basics to be an eventual expedition pilot. Sometimes he doubts himself, wonders if he’d fucked up in choosing his path. He never anticipated that things like physics and maths would be so _ mind-numbing _ .

The rush of simulations assures him that he did choose the right thing. Still, even though there’s machinery to do most of the work, he has to learn the fundamentals before weaving between asteroids.

His comm droid sits beside the deskwork, little eyes mere slits of light to simulate “sleep”. Though it’s silent, Hongjoong still notices the flashing beacon above the thing, indicating the receipt of a message. A small exclamation point hovers over the tiny bot. The redhead taps at the projection and drags it over to his computer’s holoscreen to check.

**yeosang** : i need to talk to you

Hongjoong’s brows furrow.

Ominous.

He messages back:

**hongjoong** : in the library but i can step out to call

**hongjoong** : is it an emergency?

**yeosang** : it needs to be in person

**yeosang** : alone

“What the fuck?” Hongjoong mutters. It sounds serious. Yeosang is a pretty self-reliant, cool person. If he’s asking for a one on one, it must be serious.

**hongjoong** : youre not in love with me are you?

  
He ventures a joke to lighten up the sudden heaviness of the conversation, but he doesn’t get a response. Slightly flustered, the redhead swipes the messenger window away. It could be something stupid like planning a surprise party. Is anyone’s birthday close? Maybe he just wanted to get Hong riled up for fun. It’s not unlike him to play pranks, but something about the tone. The “I need to talk to you” has a direness to it, the kind that someone wouldn’t use if they were playing around.

Ominous.

“Guess I’ll see him at club,” Hongjoong murmurs to himself. 

Wait. Club. Vintage Cinema Club! That’s a thing. Hongjoong glances at the clock on his screen and gasps. He’s running late.

“Shit,” He hisses, reaching for his bag. He opens the leather backpack and sweeps his arm across the desk surface, throwing everything - fiber notebooks, PC hub, bot, pens - into the large pocket without a second thought. “Shit, shit, shit.”

All his worries about homework and Yeosang’s foreboding messages vanish, replaced with feverish urgency. He power walks out of the library as quickly as socially acceptable before breaking out into a run. He’s going to be late. They have preparations to make and he’s going to be fucking late.

* * *

“Funny that the club leader himself is late.”

Those are the first words Hong hears as he rushes into room 1117, ten minutes late. His insides broil at the immediate jab made by none other than prim, perfect, holier-than-thou Park Seonghwa. He’s perched on top of a desk with a lopsided smirk, looking entirely too fucking amused. The bastard was literally late the day before, what right does he have to sass?

Hongjoong wipes the sweat off of his brow and tries to level his breathing out. 

“Homework,” He supplies the explanation breathily. The leader scans the room, doing a mental headcount. One, two, three… Seven. Eight including him. As there should be. His gaze falls onto Yeosang, and he wonders about the other’s cryptic message.

“It’s fine, we’re just messing with you,” Yeosang responds with a grin. There’s no indication of anything amiss, no apparent desire to pull the leader aside and have a heart to heart. “Not like we do anything for the first fifteen minutes anyway.” He playfully kicks Seonghwa and the two laugh.

How nice, Hongjoong thinks. How fucking  _ nice  _ that they can share a  _ chuckle _ . His irritation simmers deep in his gut. How the  _ fuck  _ did they meet, anyway? Why and  _ how  _ are they friends? Yeosang, underneath the dry wit and icy looks, is actually a lamb. He’s sweet and kind and caring in his own way. How does someone like him befriend a guy like Seonghwa - someone pompous, condescending, and vain?

Whatever.

Hongjoong tosses the tangent aside and strides to the front of the room, “Right, well, okay. I’m here now, and we have things to plan. Um- I made a list of duties, actually.”

“Oh.” “Nice!” A couple of gracious members reply from their perches atop desks and in chairs.

Hongjoong tosses his assistant droid toward the screen console. Immediately responding, the bot wakes up, floating to its designated spot by the podium and connecting with the holo screens at the front of the room. Front and center is a list of duties Hongjoong whipped up between classes. Make a master list and delegate - that’s his method. It’s simple and transparent, no confusion, everyone designated a simple task.

The leader steps up to the podium at the front of the room and smooths himself over. He regards everyone with a quick smile. Well, almost everyone. He leers at Wooyoung and San who somehow have  _ zero  _ qualms about being handsy with everyone present. Gross. 

“Okay, so, we’ve got- what is it, three-ish weeks?” Hongjoong starts. “We’ve got a somewhat short time to prepare our booth. Even though that feels like a long time, obviously we all have other stuff going on. It’s gonna go by a lot faster than it seems, so we ought to start preparing. Hence, the list.” He waves to the screen behind him. It reads:

“ _ MOVIE REEL CAFE CONCEPT DUTIES: _

  * Marketing and promotion - DIGITAL AND PHYSICAL MATERIALS/DISPLAYS
  * Film editing & compilation
  * Booth setup acquisition - STUDENT CENTER FOR PARTITIONS & TABLES
  * Recipe development - 2 foods, 2 drinks?
  * ANYTHING ELSE?”



Hong nods to the board, “So, uh, you guys have good deductive reasoning-”

“ _ Most _ of us do,” Yeosang snarks, nudging Wooyoung with his foot from one desk over.

Hongjoong chuckles, “Okay. Most of us have good deductive reasoning. But, um, anyway, I’m gonna go through these just so we’re clear. Obviously, these are all sort of… Umbrella-ish, but given that there’s not a lot of us, there’s not much we can do in terms of dividing tasks. I tried to break it down to four in hopes that we can pair off and help each other out.”

He waits for some indication of understanding from the others. A couple of people nod at him, a few more giving him reassuring smiles. Yunho even gives him a thumbs up. Confident that the others aren’t totally absent mentally, he carries on.

“So, just to go through the tasks, marketing and promo is responsible for, well, promotion. This includes things like out booth displays, physical handouts as well as virtual ones, and of course any blasts to the networks. I would like a variety just so we can reach multiple people. Nothing crazy, but I trust you guys to make it fit our, um, aesthetic. Let people know what we’re about and make it memorable. I guess I’ll start with, um, any volunteers?”

His clubmates exchange vacant looks, each one looking to the other for guidance or an indication of interest. San and Wooyoung gesture to one another, silently confirming that, no matter what they do, they’ll be partners. Yunho and Mingi do something similar - albeit much more hesitant and awkward - in the adorable, smitten way, of course. Jongho simply shrugs while both Yeosang and Seonghwa appear uninterested.

A few murmurs buzz across the room. A couple of “um”s and “well, maybe”s. 

Fantastic.

“Actually,” Hongjoong says, “What if we just draw lots instead? Randomize it? Like, if something jumps out, go for it, but if you’re not partial to anything, we can just throw the names into a randomizer. That sounds cool?”

“Yeah.” “Okay.” “Sure.”

“Awesome. Well- Before we volunteer, I’ll just run down the rest of this stuff, okay?” He claps. “So, film editing and compilation. Pretty straightforward. As VCC, we need to put out stuff that represents us and what we’re into. So the two working on this will just have to find some classics. Pick some really good, fun, ridiculous shit to suck people in. Then compile them. You’ll also be responsible for setting up the equipment and assuring it runs without a hitch during the fair. Recipe development is, like, a biggie. But also straightforward. Just come up with some free food and drink to suck people in. Make it something easy to pre-prepare that’ll keep well. I figured two foods and drinks is more than enough. We can do one sweet, one savory. I dunno. We’ll talk about our, um, funding in a second, but don’t worry, you don’t have to pay for all of it yourself.”

“I can pay for it,” Mingi posits with his hand raised.

“What? Mingi, no-”

“But I’m rich,” He grins, earning a few chuckles. It’s true. He is rich. He’s beyond loaded. The guy lives in a penthouse apartment at a luxury condominium just minutes from main-city center. He could probably pay everyone’s tuition. But Hongjoong would never actually ask or  _ expect  _ him to do that. He feels bad enough when Mingi pays for their outings. They’ve even gotten into a few drunken “play” fights at POS machines before.

“It’s not fair. I don’t feel comfortable not contributing.”

“I do,” Jongho snarks. The leader leers at him. 

“You know it’s fine, right? The amount of credits I would spend on this event is meager compared to-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Hongjoong says sternly, cheeks flushing. As well-intentioned as Mingi is, Hong doesn’t feel comfortable having his entire club reminded how  _ poor  _ they are compared to him. Sure, he could take everything Mingi offers, but something about it just doesn’t feel right to Hongjoong. It’s stupid - something Yunho reminds him of every occasion they have the wealth disparity conversation - but Hongjoong supposes it stems from some sort of pride. 

“Aw come on,” Yunho jokes. “Why can’t he be our sugar patron?” That gets a few more snickers.

“For fuck’s- we- we will talk about contributions to the club fund later. Shit, where were we?”

“You skipped the third one,” Yeosang reminds him.

“Oh- Right. Damn. Uh, yeah, so the last one is booth setup acquisition. This is gathering materials for the physical booth - the partitions, the tables, securing a spot and organizing logistics. Um, making sure we’re equipped with the proper setup to keep the food cold - or hot - and to keep our reel playing. Blah blah blah. The student center will have most of everything we’d need, we just need a club member to sign it out. Um, it doesn’t even have to be me. It’s a small enough club that any one of us can do this job. Then you can set up the booth, the layout. Um, yeah.” Hongjoong sighs. He feels as if he hasn’t had time to take a breath since stepping into room 1117. “Any questions? Volunteers? Concerns?”

Wooyoung raises his hand first, “Um, I’d like to do the food stuff, and I would love for Sannie Bananie to help me.” He reaches over the adjacent desk to squeeze his beloved close. Their cheeks squish together and their eyes squint, smiles wide and cheeks flushed.

Hongjoong wants to gag.

“Yeah, sure,” The leader responds, trying to hide his distaste. He’s happy for them, really! However, their velcro-like, oozing, affectionate manner also sickens him. “Bun, update the list to put WooSan on food duty.” Prompted by the leader’s order, the board updates, listing their names next to the task. “Any other volunteers?”

Everyone else exchanges expectant glances, but it ultimately just culminates into a bunch of shrugs and indecisive grunts.

“Okay, cool.” Hongjoong turns to face the board. “Bun, run a randomizer on remaining club members, append their names to the remaining items on the task list - two per item.”

“Yes, Hongjoong!” The little drone chirps.

Their names pop up on the screen next to the unoccupied task items and begin to shuffle around. Hongjoong watches, but the shifting characters don't really register much. They move too fast for him to actually predict who’s with who. He’s fine doing anything, really. His gaze falls off of the screen and onto the others. He can’t help but grin a little at his club of misfits. It warms his heart to be with them here, all together. 

It just feels right. Like home. 

They chat among themselves quietly, poke, joke and flirt. All of them vivid, with their own lives, each one from different, far-off places. Eight people in one room. Eight stories. Hongjoong usually isn’t so introspective, but he supposes something’s gotten into him lately. He’s feeling oddly sappy, apparently. It’s just so, so nice to see everyone happy and laughing, safe and sound. Smiling. They’re all smiling, grinning at one another, tittering at the screen. They’re all smiling.

  
Except for one.

Green eyes bore into Hongjoong’s. Like lasers, they hone in, focused, piercing him. 

Yeosang.

That’s right, Hong thinks, he needed to talk.

While the others laugh and go about their merry banter, Yeosang is just. Sitting there, still as a statue. There is no expression on his face. The only feature from which one could discern any sort of emotion is those eyes. Those damn eyes. They’ve always been striking, contrasting his dark hair and complimenting his fair, olive complexion. But now there’s something different looming within them. 

He is just sitting and staring, yet nobody else takes notice. None of the people surrounding him acknowledges the fact that he’s leering at the leader like he has something to say. Hongjoong can almost physically feel the heft of the other’s scrutiny. Yet, with little else to go off of - no body language, no real facial expression - Hongjoong is only left to guess what the other’s intentions are. He can’t, though. He can hardly think, a fly caught in a spider’s web, wriggling about helplessly. The more Hongjoong looks back, the weirder Yeosang looks. He doesn’t stir in the slightest, nor does his unsettling gaze waver. He’s like a puppet or a defunct android.

Hongjoong parts his lips to talk, to tell the other to quit staring, ask if he needs anything, but then suddenly-

“Randomization complete!” The helper droid chimes. “Assignments allotted.”

“Huh.” “Oh, nice.” “Oh.” “Cool!” A choir of responses echoes across the crowd.

Hongjoong’s attention gets pried away from Yeosang. He skims the board until he finds his name on the list. Film compilation - not a bad gig. Actually, it’s one of the easier jobs, and one that’ll be a pleasure. His brain quickly pivots from his previous distraction to the new delegation. He starts thinking of all kinds of old classics he could add - The Venusian Sunset, Canisian Affairs, Big Trouble On Little EXOplanet. A smile starts to cross his face, giddy at the prospect of picking out a range. Then he reads the line beneath his name.

His jaw drops.

No.

No.

No.

Not him.

Anyone but fucking him.

Why  _ him _ ?

Dread coils in his stomach and his eyes drift toward the other in question, his new partner. Ruiner of his day and of the next three weeks, approximately: Park Seonghwa. Their eyes lock, icy cold  _ unnaturally dyed _ ones matching Hongjoong’s own. Seonghwa’s gaze is far from the abyssal void of Yeosang’s. No. Those eyes they speak. They speak volumes, telling Hongjoong exactly how Seonghwa feels without necessitating the utterance of a single fucking word. The slight wrinkle in his upturned nose and his narrowed eyes tells Hongjoong everything.

Neither of them is happy with this arrangement.

“Oh shit,” Jongho grins, reaching over toward Yunho. “Two-ho excellence.”

“Let’s  _ go _ ,” Yunho replies, tail wagging. Mingi appears to be equally as excited to work with Yeosang, draping himself over the cyborg who… Appears to be back to his normal self. Hong gives the cyborg a pleading look, but it goes completely unnoticed. The other is happily soaking up the Venusian’s affection, cheeks flushed and lips stretched into the little grin he often wears.

Talk about contrast. 

Hongjoong flashes Seonghwa a phony, tight-lipped smile and nods. The other reciprocates with an equally superficial gesture of “goodwill”. Whatever. Hopefully, the newbie is content to coast. It’ll be annoying to do all of the work, but Hongjoong prefers that to the other butting in and giving his uninformed opinion.

He tries not to heave a loud, disgruntled sigh, instead clearing his throat loudly to wrest everyone’s attention.

“Alright,” The leader speaks the room, “Does anyone need a more detailed explanation of their duties? I’m thinking we can all split off and start strategizing. My idea is that we meet here during our club allotment to give each other progress updates at the beginning of our time. Then we can just go and do our tasks. That might mean doing stuff elsewhere, and that’s fine with me. I trust you to get your work done. So, um, questions?”

“No.” “No, I think we’re good.” “Nah.” “It’s clear enough.” 

“Cool. Anyone terribly unhappy with their task and wanna switch or something?” Hongjoong tries to sound as light and upbeat as possible when he says it. The leader hopes he’s not coming off as too hopeful that maybe someone else will want to switch. Anyone else.

Anyone?

No.

No one. All he gets is shrugs and muttered “nah”s instead. His heart dips, and the cloying irritation in his chest only deepens when he notices the blond’s grimace out of the corner of his eye. Fantastic. The fucker probably refuses to protest out of spite. He could’ve easily taken the easy way out, but  _ no _ , he has to be stubborn. Bastard.

“Okay, let’s, um, start working then,” Hongjoong says to a mostly distracted room. Everyone’s already broken off and started with their tasks. They huddle around desks with screens and notebooks in front of them, commiserating over their newly assigned jobs. Seonghwa approaches Hongjoong, and just as he opens his mouth to speak, Hong holds up a finger.

“Wait,” The leader says. “I have to talk to Yeosang.”

Seonghwa lets out a vexed squeak of sorts as Hongjoong walks away, approaching the cyborg.

“Hey, you have a second?”

Yeosang blinks bemusedly at the leader, “Oh, um, sure. What’s up?”

Hong nods toward the entrance of the room. It takes a few seconds for the cyborg to follow. When he does, he gives Mingi a shrug before following Hongjoong out the doors into room 1117’s waiting area.

“What’s going on?” Yeosang asks with a small frown.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Hongjoong responds. Yeosang seems fine now. No strange vacancy in his gaze, no panic or worry.

“Uh, nothing? Mingi and I were about to start working on the booth setup stuff.”

“I don’t mean the activities fair, I’m talking about you.”

“Me?” Yeo's eyes widen. “I’m fine.”

“You said you wanted to talk about something.”

“What?”

“Earlier today in your messages. You said you needed to talk. Is everything okay?”

“What messages?”

“Huh? The messages you sent me earlier. It- it was like not even an hour ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You said you had to talk to me alone. In person.”

Yeosang lets out a confused chuckle, “I- Sorry? Hongjoong, I think you’re mistaken.”

“Do you not remember?”

“I- No. Hongjoong, I didn’t message you anything?”

“What? Yes, you did, it’s-” He paws around in his pockets for a few seconds.

“Here,” Yeosang hands his own comm over - a sleek, self-designed slip of tempered glass. At Hongjoong’s touch, it comes to life, displaying the streamlined menu he custom designed. Hong navigates quickly to Yeosang’s messages. He finds his name and starts skimming their last conversation urgently.

“Wha…”

“Told you,” Yeo claps Hongjoong on the shoulder, an amused smile on his face. “You have any other Yeosangs in your contacts?”

“I- Uh- N-no. I’m-” 

_ Am I losing my mind? _ He wonders.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong mutters out. His head spins, reeling from the realization. Had he… Dozed off and dreamt the messages? Did he mix up who it was from? Confusion mixed with embarrassment swirls in his stomach, making him feel dizzy. “I- I’m sorry- I- I must have-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yeosang gives the other’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine, really. You probably just mixed me up with someone else.”

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Is- Is everything alright with you? You look a little out of it?”

“What? N-No, I’m fine. I’m cool. Just- Just schoolwork and everything else piling up I guess. Got me confused.”

Yeosang pulls Hongjoong into a hug. The leader’s eyes widen with shock. Yeo is far from the touchy, feely, affectionate type. He’s usually pretty reserved with this stuff. The leader supposes he ought not question the rare show of care and returns the gesture.

“You’re good,” The cyborg hums, his voice low and soothing.

“Thanks. Sorry about this.”

Yeosang lets go of the other and shakes his head, “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, um- yeah. Let’s just go back in there and, um, work on our stuff.”

“Sure thing.” Yeosang claps him on the shoulder before disappearing back through the classroom doors.

Hongjoong heaves a sigh and wrings a hand down his face. Fuck. He wonders if it’s the bad sleep he’d gotten the night before. He tries to take Yeosang’s words to heart. It’s good. He’s good. Everything is fine and, yeah, maybe the stresses of life are catching up with him. But it’s fine. He’s going to go back in there, play nice with blondie for half an hour before going home and gorging himself on whatever dad’s prepared for dinner.

The leader resignedly steps into the classroom, knowing what - well,  _ who _ \- is waiting for him. His heart lurches as if trying to physically distance itself as much as possible from Park Seonghwa within the confines of his rib cage. He gives the most half-assed “smile” ever as he takes a seat at the desk next to Seonghwa’s.

“Ready to get to work?” The blond asks. Something about his tone sounds judgmental, like Hongjoong wasn’t ready before and, oh, maybe  _ now  _ he’s  _ finally  _ ready to do something productive.

“Of course. Though, if I may ask, um, what is your familiarity with vintage cinema, film- whatever?”

“I’m actually quite a fan. My parents preferred to curate what I watched growing up, so I turned out fairly cultured.”

_ What a prick!  _ Hongjoong thinks. He doesn’t speak his mind, though. Figures it’s bad form to do so in front of the club. Instead, he replies politely:

“Do you have any favorites?”

“Oh- Um, not sure you’d have heard of them.”

“Try me,” Joong says with a saccharine smile. Figures Seonghwa is one of those - the types who think their enjoyment of old content is oh so unique and  _ obscure _ . Gross.

“Well, there’s one called Dangerous Love that’s a favorite of mine. It’s about-”

“The freaky stalking-kidnapping one, yeah. I’m familiar. Not my favorite. It’s a bit flippant about the reality of the main guy’s situation. Not to mention trivializing Jaejoong’s feelings...”

“Ah, really,” Seonghwa hums, not sounding all that impressed.

This is going to be the longest three weeks of Hongjoong’s life at this rate.

“Well, um, our job is to put together the PV reel. I’m thinking a two-hour loop is plenty. We don’t need to exclusively pick films we’re showing, but maybe quintessential ones?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Good, well, um, usually we check the files out of the school’s archives. As for extracting clips from library files… We ought to ask-”

“We can use my library.”

“Your- Your what?”

`````````````````“Well, like I said, my parents are enthusiasts of classical film. We’ve gotten our hands on a few that are even centuries old. We actually have some physical media, too- oh- we could put that on display- I digress. My point is that we have a comprehensive collection so we don’t have to fuss with the public files.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience-”

“I insist. I mean, of course we don’t have to. It just seems like a bit more of an inconvenience to troll through public archives and then submit requests for rights and extractions for every movie. I mean, you said it yourself - two hours? Two hours of cut up footage? And how long do those forms take to come around? I- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to speak over you.”

Too fucking late for that!

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong says. He hopes that the other doesn’t notice the way he’s gripping his desk, knuckles white, straining to vent his frustration with the force. “Why don’t we just make lists of some films we think are appropriate. And convene next meeting. Then we can talk about acquisition.”

“Sounds good,” Seonghwa responds. “Shall we get started then?”

“Yeah.”

The two exchange an affirmative nod before getting to work. Seonghwa stays put while Hongjoong goes up front where his things are. While others are cooperating, Hongjoong and Seonghwa are perfectly content in their separate corners. 

  
Good. At least something’s going right today.

Hongjoong grabs a paper notebook and starts jotting down movies and parts that would make good PV material. His mental image is that of a theater’s preview reel. He knows that if he wanted to he could dig up the actual theatrical trailers, but he thinks it’d be more fun to edit them himself, really make it their own. 

* * *

“Ugh, you should’ve heard the way he said it,” Hongjoong groans, flopped over on his bed. In lieu of the weird and stressful day, Hong invited Yunho to their private vent server for a shittalking session. Yunho pointed out how silly it is to hang out in holographic spaces when they lived next to one another, and minutes later, he ended up at Hongjoong’s door. Even though they’re both damn adults, his parents still side-eyed him for having a friend over on a school night. Luckily, they love Yunho just as much (if not more) than their actual son, so they let it slide.

The canis chuckles, cross-legged on Hongjoong’s hovering egg chair. What Hongjoong considers irritating, Yunho finds incredibly amusing. Asshole. Hongjoong would trade just about anything to swap places with the lucky fucker. Yunho can get along with just about anyone - pompous blonds no doubt included. But no, he got sweet Jongho while Hongjoong gets ash-blond satan.

Hongjoong puts on a haughty tone, “Not sure you’ve heard of them.”

Yunho snickers, “How’d you think Yeosang became friends with him anyway?”

“I don’t even fucking  _ know _ . Yeosang is actually the sweetest human on this Earth.”

“Underneath all the sarcasm.”

“Yeah, seriously. Maybe that’s what it is. He’s too nice. Likes to see the good in others.”

“That’s how he became friends with us, you know.”

“Yeah, okay, but we don’t have-” Hong puts on an exaggerated snooty tone again, “-an  _ extensive  _ personal library with films and hard copies that are  _ centuries  _ old.”

“Oh, brother.”

“Yeah, no shit. You sure you don’t wanna switch?”

“No fucking way. I’m sorry you have to deal with that shit, but not  _ that  _ sorry.”

“You suck.”

“I know,” Yunho makes an exaggerated pout.

Hongjoong heaves a sigh, melting into his mattress. He’s just about to dismiss Yunho when something pops up in his head.

“Hey, Yunho?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeosang… Has he said anything to you?”

The canis’s brows furrow, “About what?”

“I dunno. Just… Anything. Like, he seems okay, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Why? Did he say anything to you? That why you pulled him aside today?”

“Um- No, no it was something else. A tech thing. But, I dunno, he looked kind of off to me.” Hongjoong watches the other’s face carefully. If anything is up, Yunho is the one to spot it. He’s got a really good knack for discerning peoples’ feelings. (Well, people who aren’t the smitten Song Mingi, anyway.)

“I didn’t notice anything.”

“Okay. I seriously think I had a hallucination earlier today. Is that weird?”

“Damn. You need to get more sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess so.  _ Shit _ .”

“I’ll see myself out so you can get some rest.”

“Ugh. I’ll try. I swear I pass out for the entire night but still wake up exhausted.”

“That blows. Something else bothering you?”

“You mean besides the usual obligations of life? I… I dunno I just- I’ve been absentminded lately. Just… Forgetting shit all the time. Zoning out.”

“You’ve always been kind of spacey. Doesn’t seem abnormal to me. If it wasn’t for the simulated gravity here, you’d have probably floated past the barrier by now.”

“Ha ha. I’m serious, though. This is different.”

Yunho frowns, “Damn. You think it’s medical or something?”

“Maybe? I- I don’t know.”

“Well, it could be related to your shitty sleep, too. Sleep affects your memories and all that crap.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess.”

“Look- Just- I’m no expert, but why not try and get some rest? Serious rest. Make a routine and unplug a bit before bed.”

Hongjoong sighs, “Okay, mom.”

“What?”

“No, no, it’s alright- just- damn it’s so annoying that you’re right all the time.” Hong weakly tosses a nearby plush at the canis. Yunho dodges it with ease, chuckling at the sad attempt.

“It’s a burden being so perfect.”

“Yes, I can’t imagine a day in your shoes. However, while I’d love for you to regale to me your tales of triumph, it’s getting late.”

“Shit- Yeah. I need to hop.”

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you!” Yunho’s tail wags as he steps out, giving Hongjoong one last parting wave.

Hongjoong heaves another sigh, melting into his mattress. His eyelids started to get heavy awhile before, and he’d been running on fumes for the tail end of his vent session. Suddenly, his bed feels about twenty times cozier than it did before. Fending off sleep turns into a fight - a rather futile one that Hongjoong sees little point in doing. So, he succumbs, shuts his eyes, and wraps his blankets around himself snugly.

The world around him quickly fades to black as he hopes for better days ahead.

* * *

Hongjoong steps off the shuttle, brows furrowed as he follows his droid’s prompting. He’s been dreading this all day. 

“Sure, we can work at your place.” - Words Hongjoong now seriously regrets. 

There’s a long, long list of things he’d rather do than spend an evening with Park Seonghwa. He would much rather be cleaning his room, replacing the battery cells of the family hovercraft, taking a literal exam - pretty much anything, really, would be better than hiking to the rich part of town for an afternoon in his company.

The small shuttle station lets out to a pedestrian brick street. A few idyllic townhouse type residences line the thoroughfare. The real neighborhood, however, exists above. Oversized houses float on independent islands about a hundred meters off of the ground. Why? Hongjoong can’t begin to figure out. From what he knows, it was some trend from the 3090’s that catered to people who wanted to live in a neighborhood while feeling “exclusive”. More like  _ excessive _ . Somehow, he finds it completely unsurprising that Seonghwa would live in a place like this.

“House number four-three-nine-eight.” The bunny droid bobs in the air beside Hongjoong, guiding him. The redhead’s stomach drops further with each step closer to the Park residence. He reminds himself that it won’t be that bad, tells himself to just get the fuck over it. 

The redhead takes a deep breath upon reaching the Park residence landing. A little hologram with their house number and - yikes - a family portrait greets him in front of the lift. Much like the ones his university employs, the residential lift begins operating. Except, instead of being small, personal units, the lift is massive - big enough for two hovercrafts.

“Here we go,” Hongjoong mutters. The lift’s operating interface pops up as he steps on. It’s a lot simpler than one he’d normally see. There are two options: UP or CALL. He murmurs to himself while he presses down the obvious option. “Up, up, and away…”

The platform whirs to life, jostling slightly beneath his feet. He clings to the railing around the perimeter, trying not to mind the increasing distance between himself and the ground.

Hongjoong’s jaw drops as he steps onto the surface of the floating property. He can feel the structure thrumming with life, the vibrations running up through the soles of his boots. Though logically he understands that there are numerous safety measures - barriers, alarms, catch-droids - he still struggles to quiet the unease bubbling in his chest. Location aside, he supposes that disassociating his  _ company  _ from the root cause of his anxiety is silly. Of  _ course  _ he’s ill at ease. He could be going to an ice cream shop with the guy and it would set him on edge.

The imposing entry to the excessive mini-mansion parts automatically upon sensing the proximity of the young master. Hong tries not to gawk. Nervousness cranks the heat up beneath his collar and makes him start to sweat.

“Welcome home, Seonghwa.” “Welcome back, son.” His parents stand at the entrance dressed primly and plainly. They appear to be an amalgamation of his features - or, Hongjoong supposes, it’s the other way around. He’s borrowed from each of them; the end result, of course, being a blessing wholly undeserved by the soul within. 

“Oh, who’s this?” “Welcome to our home. We hope you find everything nicely.” They turn to him.

It’s then that the absurdity of two grown, working people camping by the door occurs to him. Were they waiting? Had Seonghwa informed them of their arrival? The man is an adult. Why would his parents insist on hovering?

“Please, help yourself to anything you like. Seonghwa, please make sure our guest is comfortable,” The one Hong would presume to be his mother flashes him a plastic grin. Though the sentiment of her words is warm, her eyes are cold - very nearly as cold as her own son’s, though the frigidity comes off differently. They’re cold, hollow.

Lifeless.

Hongjoong suppresses a shudder. Meeting the parents was not on the list of things he’d mentally prepared for. Nerves flurry up, and for a second he’s afraid he’s actually going to be physically sick.

What’s wrong with him?

Sure, he gets nervous like everyone else, but never has it affected him so physically, made his guts churn and toil, threatening to spill out. He almost feels dizzy, transfixed by Ms. Park’s abyssal, dark eyes. It would hardly be good form to retch sick up on their lacquered onyx floors, but he fears that it might happen.

His mouth flaps open, a polite response at the tip of his tongue, then he stops.

“ _ Ugh _ ,” Seonghwa groans. “Dismiss.” He waves at his parents contemptuously, and suddenly their bodies… Flicker?

Hong blinks.

He blinks again.

They’re still gone after the third or fourth over-the-top, deliberate blink, and that’s when the circuitry of his brain reanimates. 

They were holograms.

“Sorry about that,” The blond says, sounding more irritated than apologetic. “I keep telling my parents that those things are fucking creepy. But they insist on having them. Makes them seem like good hosts or something. I think they do it to absolve themselves of guilt for- well, nevermind that. Just follow me.” He gestures past the grandiose staircase in the direction of a corridor beneath.

Hongjoong nods numbly, unable to muster any sort of response to the blond’s bitter words. He tries not to let his natural curiosity get the best of him, but his mind can’t help but run rampant during the half-assed tour the blond gives. Hongjoong follows Seonghwa through the corridor into one living area of sorts that goes into a kitchen. Emphasis on the “a” since there are apparently  _ multiple _ kitchens in the Park household. Hongjoong couldn’t imagine.

There are other things here and there that catch Hongjoong’s attention. A painted family portrait portrays Seonghwa’s father in a dress Coalition uniform - naval division, decorated. The Parks have an infinity pool out back, the far side of which literally waterfalls off of the edge of their floating island before being turned to vapor and reintegrated by cloaked processing tech. As extremely over the top as the feature is, it doesn’t seem to see much use.

That applies to most of the house, actually. There’s certainly a sort of style that carries throughout the space. It’s all clean, contemporary, straight lines. In spite of the family pictures and sentimental items peppered throughout, there’s still something incredibly sterile about it. There’s no waft of food drifting out into the hallways, no rumpled clothing draped over chairs or paw prints indicative of pets. Nothing. It feels eerily empty and austere.

Within those few minutes of Joong’s arrival, the Parks managed to paint a picture. The ever absent parents, the resentful son, the heaps of conspicuous wealth that doesn’t seem to be enough. It’s a picture, sure, but a flat one. It’s as if someone had attempted to replicate something complex and rich with children’s art class paints. It’s all blocks of primary colors, no shadow, no depth, just oversimple shapes.

Even the guy’s pitiful family life is pathetically cliche. Hongjoong almost feels bad for the guy. (Almost.) He very nearly wants to accuse whatever divine powers responsible for the world of being woefully lazy. However, he can’t really be assed to care much. He’s here for one thing and one thing only: the guy’s film collection.

Thankfully, they get there. After bathroom number five, Seonghwa finally leads Hongjoong to the promised land.

“And this is the library,” Seonghwa leads Hongjoong through a heavy-looking set of double doors. 

The redhead’s veneer of composure crumbles at the sight of the space. The first thing he sees is shelves. Shelves upon shelves stocked with artifacts. Decrepit physical media sits beneath cloches or behind glass panels. Some of the shelves are lined with what appear to be physically bound fiber books while others showcase memorabilia hovering above trophy bases. Seonghwa wasn’t wrong about his family’s impressive collection, and Hong is too mystified to even feign ambivalence. Talk about a boon. He feels like a pirate who’d just walked into a trove of treasure.

In the middle of it all is a luxurious, massive leather sofa. The huge piece of furniture looks like it could seat twenty people easily. It seems immensely excessive considering that (at least per the portraits hanging in the hallways) the Park family is only four.

“Take your time,” Seonghwa says glibly in response to Hongjoong’s gawking.

The club leader collects his jaw off the ground and tries to restore his composure. 

“S-So, um, where should we… Where should we start? You got a file repository somewhere? We just need to start with a few selections, I guess.”

“Of course. Let me grab the main repo,” Seonghwa strides over to one of the shelves and grabs a small, nondescript box. The dark sheen makes it look like some lacquered ornament, but a few touches bring the console to life, causing screens to pop up above.

“So, where do we begin?” Hongjoong wonders. 

“It’s sorted alphabetically, but we’d be here all night if we went through all of them. Surely you have some ideas.”

Hongjoong grimaces at the idea of spending all night with Seonghwa. The list of things he’d rather do is almost as long as the list of movies the guy’s family has in their repo.

“Um, yeah. I had a few-” Hong takes out his droid, gesturing and swiping through menus to get to his notes. “I think we should stick with stuff that’s approachable. Maybe bordering on silly. Something eyecatching.”

“Really?” Seonghwa sounds dubious.

“Yes.”

“Why not opt for something a bit more substantial? Film is one of the best tools we have to inform ourselves of the past. They’re a product of their time and can help us learn about how things were. Do you really just sit and watch movies?”

Hongjoong grits his teeth, “We do host deeper discussions and do presentations on the films we show. But this is an activities fair. We’re showing a brief taste of each film to the folks walking by. I don’t see much of a point showcasing exclusively ‘substantial’ films in this case. We want to attract people.”

“Isn’t vintage cinema a niche interest?”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Figures the guy is up his own ass about it. While there are plenty of films from the past few centuries that were hard-hitting, beautiful, and impactful, there were also plenty that were nothing but pure fun. Meaning and information on life during the times can be extracted from even the silliest of comedies - so why exclude them? Hong dwells on his rebuttal, but the other speaks before he can fully formulate the passive-aggressive response.

“Hm. Well, I suppose we can have both.”

How  _ gracious  _ of Seonghwa, the person who’s been around for a few days, to decide they can do both. Hongjoong rolls his eyes.

“Let’s just pick some,” The leader replies.

And so the process begins. A marquee of trailers and poster projections scroll by as they go back and forth. They lapse into a fairly stale back and forth. Seonghwa will point one film out, Hongjoong the other. In spite of his haughty exterior, Seonghwa’s picks are actually full of fluff.

Hongjoong quickly picks up that the other likes fantasy. A lot. He gravitates toward old science-fiction and speculative pieces. The blond loves romance and drama - as long as the tension gets wrapped up with a pretty bow. Everything he posits (at least the ones Joong is familiar with) has a clear cut good guy and bad guy. The redhead decides to keep his mouth shut for the sake of peace. It’s not even like Seonghwa’s taste is bad. Just sort of basic (especially considering how much he talked about “niche” tastes).

The other also happens to be surprisingly receptive to suggestions. It takes a bit of pull - some convincing, a bit of tension, but he comes around. Hongjoong tries to ignore the way Seonghwa’s eyes roam up and down his body. It’s like he’s appraising the club leades, watching for his reactions, and making judgments.

“This one really hit me,” Seonghwa says. “It left a lasting impression.”

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this one,” Hongjoong mutters. “The Black Bandits…”

The cover image is stark and simple in black and white. Eight men sit in neat rows garbed identically in long black jackets and wide-brimmed hats. Chains drape from necks, masks, and their dark attire, interspersed with leather and hardware. Though the film name doesn’t ring a bell, the cover looks familiar.

Hongjoong squints at the image, straining to remember where and when he’d seen it. It’s like a word at the very tip of his tongue. The idea is there, on the very cusp of realization, yet he cannot, for the life of him make the connection. Though he’s the one gawking, he feels as though the image is the one staring at him. Seonghwa’s voice is but a muffled drone, muted by Hongjoong’s own whirring thoughts. Their buzzing is almost audible, loud like gushing water in his ears. The light of the screen starts straining Hongjoong’s eyes, and the edge of his vision loses focus. 

There’s something disturbing about it.

The longer Hongjoong looks at it, the further the image deconstructs. His strained vision makes the image almost melt away, distorting the eight figures into a smear of black and gray. All but one. Front and center on the bottom row, one of them remains stubbornly in focus, almost demanding to be seen. His eyes are dark, tenebrous even, and for some reason, Hongjoong feels like he knows him. Long hair, dark eyes…

“Does it not set your heart alight?”

“Hm?!” Hongjoong jumps, startled.

“I said: is this not a movie you like?” Seonghwa asks.

With that, whatever strange spell Hong found himself over gets shattered. He blinks rapidly, clearing the tears he didn’t notice welling up in his stinging eyes.

“Um- Never heard of it,” Hongjoong mumbles.

“Oh.” 

The redhead tries to ignore the other’s disappointed tone. He brings out his comm droid and pulls up the personal list he’d made prior. Seonghwa is actually quite obliging in pulling the leader’s list. Hong expected more pushback, more condescending remarks and rolled eyes. That’s what he’s come to expect from the other. It’s not that Seonghwa is acting nice. He’s just… Quiet. The blond remains completely mum, nodding along with whatever Hongjoong says, staring at the repository’s HUD almost blankly. Irked by the awkward atmosphere, Hongjoong has to ask:

“Are you tired or something? Because I’m fine with cutting it short. It’s been over an hour, and I think we’ve made decent progress.” 

Seonghwa’s shockingly amenable demeanor did allow things to move along quickly. He basically accepted everything Hongjoong said - all of his suggestions, recommendations, and picks. Hongjoong even started feeling bad and let Seonghwa slip a few in there. At the very least, nobody can say the leader didn’t compromise. The other seemed entirely ambivalent either way.

“Tired? Are you tired?” Seonghwa asks, brows raised.

“Um. Well. I’m not  _ not  _ tired. But I can definitely work more. You seem sort of out of it though?” Hong wonders if he even has the right to say such a thing. It’s not like he knows this guy. He supposes that, in some universe, going home with Seonghwa would’ve resulted in the prettyboy shedding his airs and maybe showing something of a “true personality”. Maybe. Not that he hoped for that or anything. Still, sometimes, Joong swears the guy he sees at club isn’t the real Park Seonghwa. Maybe it’s wishful thinking - he doesn’t want to believe that someone so damn  _ typical  _ can truly exist. There is also the possibility that this docile, bland person is the “true” personality after all. Something about that doesn’t sit right with the redhead.

Hongjoong tries to shake the thoughts from his head. He’s overthinking it, he knows he is; and sure, he may find this Seonghwa “bland”, but it’s better than the guy being a condescending prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a quiet or unexpressive personality, anyway. Thankfully, before Hongjoong can topple further down the summit of overthought, Seonghwa replies.

“I suppose I am,” Seonghwa responds with a nod. “I… Apologize. I mean- I’m sorry. You think we made good progress? I mean- We made good progress.”

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, we’ve got a start. I’ve always found - at least in my brief forays of working with film footage - that you usually pull a lot and think it’s enough but ultimately need more. So, this is a start.”

“Right. Shall I walk you to the door?”

“Oh. Um, sure. Yeah.” Over just like that, huh? Hongjoong isn’t sure what he expected. It’s not like they’re going to have some warm, drawn-out goodbye. They hardly know each other.

Seonghwa mutedly leads him back through the maze of corridors lined with art and family photos. The redhead wonders if he’d said or done something wrong. Though Seonghwa hasn’t said anything alluding to it, he can’t help feeling the pressure. His temples begin pulsing with pain as he tries to fight off another bout of overthinking.

The two quickly find themselves back at the grand foyer. It appears just as imposing as it had on his first pass through. Thankfully, the holograms are gone, but it gets Hongjoong thinking (in spite of his efforts toward  _ not  _ thinking).

“Where’s your family?” He blurts out. His face immediately flushes with embarrassment. The question is pointed and uncouth, hardly an appropriate thing to ask a stranger out of the blue.

“Mother and father are in another sector for work. My brother comes and goes.”

So he  _ is  _ alone a lot. Just as Hongjoong thought.

  
Typical.

“Oh. Well, please thank them for me when they return.” Hongjoong recovers quickly, covering up curiosity with a facade of gratitude. “It’s a big help to the club.”

“Yes, of course. You’re welcome.”

“Um- Let’s work in the club room tomorrow.”

“Right.”

“So… I guess I’ll see you, then.” Hongjoong gives the other a wave.

“Tomorrow?”

“Uh- Yeah. Um-”

“Do you need help operating the lift?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. Well. See you later.”

“Bye.” Seonghwa flashes a tight-lipped smile before shutting the door behind Hong.

Hongjoong’s head swims with confusion. The entire afternoon was steeped in awkwardness, and the conclusion ended up being no different. He tries not to dwell on the lingering discomfort and makes haste to the lift. They  _ did  _ make some headway on their part of the activities fair project. At least there’s some consolation for the excruciating afternoon. Hong just prays that they won’t need to have too many of those moving forward. He’d much prefer working in the club room to the Park mini-manse.

His feet drag when he lands back on the neighborhood’s thoroughfare level. He plods toward the shuttle station slowly, mind meandering all the while. Hongjoong never had any interest in Park Seonghwa. As a matter of fact, he’d say he has negative interest in the guy. The less he knows, the better. But now, after seeing the man in his home, his mind can’t stop going back to that place. To him.

It was just so… So strange. There was something off about it, uncanny. And, in spite of himself, he can’t help being curious. The monastic vibe of the house, his peculiar behavior. That movie.

What was it called?

And what was it that he said?

Hongjoong tries to remember. He feels dumb for forgetting so quickly. Seonghwa said something to him. Something utterly strange. Oh, he knows it. He  _ knows  _ it. It’s on the tip of his tongue, Hong swears it is. He said

_ “Beep-beep!” _

Joong startles at the trill of his comm droid. It drifts out of his bag to float beside him, projected beacon floating above.

“Message from Yunho in the VC flagged to everyone!” The little bot informs him. It immediately pulls the redhead out of his stupor.

“Oh- Huh, must be important,” Hongjoong mutters as he gestures to switch screens. He welcomes the distraction with glee, a smile blooming across his face as he reads what his friends have been up to while he was occupied.

* * *

Hongjoong slumps onto the worn leather couch in the middle of the vast warehouse space. There are a few of them scattered about, along with mismatching chairs, random cushions, paletts, a basketball hoop - it’s a bit of a mishmash, really. When they were building their virtual hangout, they didn’t exactly have a wealth of resources. They worked with what was available - free environments, open source pieces, and promotional stuff. While Yeosang’s initial design with the “Horror Grunge Warehouse Environment” made Hongjoong extremely wary, he’s actually pleased with how the space has come together. A lot of the stuff came stock - the chain link fence panels, the rusted robots, barricades and little piles of junk. They managed to load in a few couches, chairs, blankets, and even some instruments. The warehouse makes it possible for them to actually do stuff. They can kick a ball around or lounge around and play instruments - all while their physical bodies are snugly tucked away in bed.

“Hong, you have an in,” Yunho laughs, spread out on an old mattress on the ground. Mingi dozes next to him (so close, yet so far). “Fuck your pride, I want to swim in that pool.”

“We could swap,” Hongjoong counters with a hopeful smile.

“Uh, no.”

“Is he really that bad?” Jongho asks from across the room. He and Wooyoung kick a ball back and forth in the meanwhile.

“No,” Yeosang, who’s sitting in a chair near Hongjoong, replies.

“Yeo, I still don’t know how you’re friends with this guy,” The redhead huffs.

“He’s not that bad.”

“He’s not that good, either.”

“One day, I think you two can really get along.”

“Uh-huh,” Hongjoong says, dubious.

“I agree with him,” San phases into the space, strolling in from across the warehouse floor. “I don’t like that Park guy. He looks at me funny.”

“He finds you intimidating,” Yeosang answers coolly.

“That what it is?” San asks, joining Jongho and Wooyoung’s game without a hitch.

“Yes. He’s intimidated by all of you.”

“I somehow highly doubt that,” Hongjoong responds.

“He walked into an established friend group as an outsider. Of course he’s going to feel awkward.” Yeosang replies.

“Sure. Awkward. That’s why he rolls his eyes at any suggestion I try to make.” Except for today, Hongjoong thinks.

“I think we just need to bond a little,” Yeosang says. “And we do have a long weekend coming up...”

“Oh!” Yunho sits up, a grin stretching across his face. “That’s why I pinged all of you guys.” He elbows Mingi, prompting the other to jolt slightly as he stirs.

“Uhm- Nn- Yeah. Yeah the ping,” Mingi says with a yawn.

All eyes are on the two, wondering what in the hell they’re talking about. It’s not often that the alarm bells are rung so that everyone’s made to notice. Whatever they have to say must be important.

The Venusian wipes the grog off of his face (something that Hongjoong finds ironic given that they’re just a collection of polygons, really). He gives everyone a smile and sits up straighter.

“Well,” Mingi says. “Yunho and I were talking, and we thought we should take a trip on our long weekend. Just a few days.”

“A trip?” “Wait- Like how far?” “You want to go away?” A few of them murmur in response.

Hongjoong nibbles on his lip, mind whirring with thought, “But the activity fair is close…”

“It can be a working trip!” Yunho responds quickly. “We’ll all be together in one place, so, like, we can bring some work-”

“And have some fun, too!” Mingi finishes the thought.

“I know we’ve all been stressed and going crazy with midterms. Before we know it, finals will be upon us. We’ve been, um, really stressed and- and losing sleep. I think it’d be good for us.” Though Yunho regards the entire room, Hongjoong can tell it’s somewhat targeted. He can feel the way his humecanis brother’s gaze lingers on him. Hongjoong’s heart sinks a little thinking about how he ended up burdening his friend. He wanted to vent, not cause concern.

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong mutters. “I- I mean it’s a bit much to pick up and leave on such short notice. Right?”

A few of the others exchange glances and shrugs. 

“Well…” “Would it?” “Not really.” “I’m sure I can make arrangements.” “Hm.” “There’s work-study…”

“What kind of trip were you thinking?” Wooyoung asks.

“So,” Mingi’s grin grows wide, his expression one of glowing excitement (or maybe the glowing is just his natural Venusian luminescence - it’s always hard to tell). “I know someone - just a, um, family friend, really. But they have a landmass in the equatorial region of Earth CL07075 - it’s in this sector.”

“Question!” Jongho raises his hand like he’s in class.

Mingi chuckles, “Yeah?”

“What is equatorial?”

“It means near the equator of the planet,” Yeosang clarifies on Mingi’s behest. “As in the center.”

“Like the core?”

“No,” Wooyoung snickers. “It means, like, geographically relative to the vertical axis of the planet. Didn’t you learn this shit in school? Come on, man.”

“My brain only stores information pertinent to things I like or that I’m being graded on,” Jongho responds jokingly. (Or, at least  _ half  _ jokingly.) “Why does it matter where it is, anyway?”

“It’s an island. He’s talking about an island,” Yunho laughs.

“Right- Yeah. I should have said that.” Mingi giggles sheepishly.

“Yes.” “Yeah. You should have.” “Why didn’t you just fucking say they had an island?!” “Come on, Mingi.” “Why are my friends morons?” “Wait- Did he just say an island-”

“Right. So, anyway-” Mingi coughs loudly to wrest the room’s attention. “They don’t make it out there often, and when they heard I was going to school close by, they offered us a key.”

“Wait.” “Are you fucking serious?” “Just like that?!”

“A whole fucking island?” Hongjoong’s mouth drops open. Suddenly Seonghwa’s house seems like nothing compared to what Mingi’s apparent family-friends boast. “I- I don’t know. That’s- that’s super generous, but is it really appropriate for us to just crash the place? I mean- Not that I don’t want to. I just- Is it really okay?”

“Huh?” Mingi raises his brows, bemused. “Of course. They own land across like twen- well, a bunch of planets. Not to mention on Venus as well. It’s really no big deal, and I’ll make sure to have it cleaned after we depart.”

“How far is it?” Jongho asks.

“CL07075? Depends on the mode of transport, but maybe four hours by a commercial shuttle,” The Venusian shrugs.

Even though he’s in cyberspace, Hongjoong feels like the heat’s ramped up by ten degrees. “I- I don’t know if I can just pick up and leave, I mean…” His parents probably wouldn’t care - he’s an adult after all, and he has gone on trips before. But never has he just been whisked off-planet so quickly. And what of the expenses? How much do things cost in that region of CL07075? Not to mention he has coursework to do. And what if an emergency happens?

“Come on,  _ please  _ let me treat you,” Mingi folds his hands together and pouts. “Everything will be on me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Hongjoong sputters, feeling more embarrassed with each passing second.

“I’m offering.”

“But-”

“Okay, I get it. It’s a pride thing-”

“But-”

“Hey, he can speak for himself!” Wooyoung interjects. “I, for one, am happy to let you be my sweet patron. By all means, spoil me.” San narrows his eyes at the human beside him. Though it appears joking, there’s the slightest tint of menace underlining his expression, prompting Wooyoung to hastily add: “Platonically. Spoil me platonically!”

Mingi responds, “I’ll cover  _ most  _ of it. Like, the house stay is basically free, and they’ve got transportation there - somebody needs to run their crafts. And- and if we buy groceries together it won’t cost too much.”

Suddenly, all eyes are on Hongjoong. He doesn’t know  _ why _ everyone’s looking at him. People are capable of making their own damn decisions. Yet, even so, they’re all looking to him. A leader in club and out, Hongjoong supposes. He sighs exasperatedly, the heft of their gazes getting heavier and heavier.

In truth, even he can’t quite grasp why it’s so hard for him to accept. Most people (including his friends) would probably think him insane for even considering turning down such an offer. A “mostly” free trip to a far off planet where he can play on the beach and relax with his friends. Who would say no to that?

Kim Hongjoong. Neurotic, contemplative, prideful, anxious Kim Hongjoong, that’s who. Part of it is pride, but most of his hesitence stems from guilt, he realizes. It feels… Too good to be true. Too good to be real and too good for him. It’s an unbelievable stroke of luck that the seven of them found each other. For one of them to be ridiculously rich and happy to just treat them to, well, anything? It’s a bit excessive. Mingi is gracious and generous. Hongjoong could never picture the guy ever coming to collect or dangling his financial advantage over the others. But there’s a perpetual part of his mind that fears just that. He’s afraid that taking one too many nice gifts will put him in a disadvantaged position where he owes the other - and that terrifies him. He has such a hard time believing that something so genuine and wholesome and nice could come to him. How can things just… Be so nice?

It doesn’t feel right.

“Please say yes,” Mingi begs.

Oh no.

Oh  _ no _ .

He’s doing the thing.

The Venusian possesses a special talent for pouting. There’s pouting, and then there’s whatever Mingi does. The man manages to turn into an adorable little kitten when he does it. His eyes get big and wet, full of stars, and his lips are so incredibly plush, making for the perfect pout. Hongjoong considers himself fairly fortified against such things. However, when it’s Mingi plus the rest of his friends giving him puppy eyes, his hesitance starts to waver.

“W-Well, I- I mean-” Hongjoong stutters. His gaze sweeps across the rest of the group and, fuck, even Yeosang is looking at him hopefully. “I- Well, as long as there’s a connection out there so we can work-” Everyone leans in, hanging on his every word. “-a-and we will work, okay?”

“Yes.” “Yeah.” “Totally.” “We’ll work hard!”

The leader sighs, cheeks blazing, resigned, “Well then, uh. I- I guess I don’t see why not-”

Before he can finish, cheers and excited squeals echo through the virtual warehouse. Hong winces at the sudden onslaught, covering his ears.

Guess that’s done.

“But!” Hongjoong shouts, “We have to get some work done!”

“Ohmigosh.” “I’m gonna log off and pack.” “Yes!” “Thank you Mingi!” “Love you!” “Ahhhh-!”

The redhead is glad to see his friends so giddy. Though he still doesn’t feel quite right about it, he tries to remind himself that it’s okay. It’s okay to have fun. It’s okay to take time off. It’s okay to take a gift offered by a friend. It’ll just be a few days. He tries to tell himself that he deserves it.

Maybe it will help settle his nerves and keep his stress dreams at bay. In spite of his default busybody state, he hopes he can relax a bit. 

  
The leader tries to drown out his doubts with kind assurances. Though he’s not completely sold on it, he figures time will make it easier. Once he’s actually out there, surrounded by his friends, basking in the salty sea breeze, he’ll start to ease up. (At least, he hopes.)

It won’t be that bad, he tells himself. After all, what’s the worst that can happen? 

* * *

“Please fasten your seatbelts as we will be entering the atmosphere of Earth CL07075 shortly,” The robotic voice on the intercom says.

“Are you going to be like this all weekend?” Yeosang asks from his seat on Hongjoong’s right.

The redhead makes a show of huffing annoyedly, fixing his gaze out the window beside him. The blue hue of the planet’s atmosphere has come into view, and beneath the wisps of clouds Hong can start to make out land masses atop the vast oceans.

“Come on,” The cyborg whispers. “You said we had to work.”

“Yeah. We had to work. I don’t see why he couldn’t just communicate through messages,” Hong hisses.

Yeosang smirks, “Glad you’ve broken your silence.”

“I- Urgh,” Hongjoong’s guts toil with irritation. Talk about a shitty start to what was supposed tobe a relaxing weekend away. “I just cannot believe you did this. I don’t know who I’m more pissed at: you or Mingi.”

Hongjoong was already anxious about taking the trip. When he met his friends at the interplanetary port station, he jittered with a mix of excitement and nerves. In spite of himself, he felt mostly excited, ready to perhaps actually relax. Unfortunately, the sight of Park Seonghwa quickly shattered those dreams. Though he could posit myriad questions in relation to the other’s presence, pretty much all of them start with the same thing: Why?

“How did this even happen?” The redhead wonders.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Yeo replies.

“What? You’re saying it like this is my fault”

“We tried to tell you, but you didn’t check your messages,” Yeosang says, sounding far too amused at Hongjoong’s woe.

“How’d you even get everyone to agree to this?”

“I don’t think anyone else’s hate-boner is throbbing like yours. The villa has twelve rooms. You can just stay on opposite sides of the house if it bothers you so much.”

“Fucking gross. Don’t even joke about me having a boner for that guy.”

“Why is  _ that  _ the part of my words that your brain focuses on?”

“Why’d you use such visceral figurative language?!”

“We are now breaching the exosphere of Earth CL07075. Please remain seated with your seatbelt fastened, as it is common for turbulence to occur during the preliminary portion of our descent.” The robotic voice interrupts them. “We thank you for choosing Eden Starways as your interplanetary carrier. If you have any questions regarding your transfers to the surface continents, please notify one of our androids at the landing port or consult the flight board outside the bay…”

“Please,” Yeosang whispers. “Can you please at least try to get along with him? For me? Why do you even hate him so much?”

“I- He- He and I, we…” Hongjoong tries to remember. 

Why does he hate Seonghwa so much?

There’s a reason. He knows there’s a reason. Something happened between them. A lot of things. Fights. Nasty exchanges. Then there was a… Partner project? 

Yes, it’s coming back to him.

“We worked on a project together once,” Hong whispers, glancing across his row to assure the blond isn’t listening. Seonghwa is sitting on the opposite end of the shuttle, gazing out the window silently. Above the hum of the ship’s engines, surely he won’t hear anything Hongjoong is about to say.

“Wait, really?” Yeosang’s brows raise. “He never told me.”

“Yeah, we… We had a class together and I didn’t like him. That’s it.”

“That’s it? He was a shitty partner?”

“Yes.”

“But he’s pretty smart, though. He’s not lazy, either.”

“Yeah, well, he stabbed my back and nearly made me fail.”

Yeosang’s brows raise high upon his forehead, “He did?”

“Yes. Of fucking course he probably wasn’t eager to tell you that.”

“What happened?”

“He…” Hongjoong has to take a second to recall. He’d buried the memory deep, much deeper than he realized. The sheer stress of the ordeal traumatized him more than he realized. “We worked on a project together. We very nearly got to the end then he… He fucked me over. I don’t- I don’t even remember the details. But he told the professor something and we got split up. Except, he got to keep all of the hard work that  _ we  _ worked on. I had to restart my project from scratch with a new topic. With the same due date. Work that took two people months, I had to do in, like, two weeks.”

  
  


“Shit. That’s so… Odd. Did he ever tell you why?”

“He didn’t have to. I know why. He was fucking greedy and full of himself. He just wanted the glory and attention for turning us in. He was always a kiss-ass.”

“Huh.” Yeosang glances toward Seonghwa. He goes quiet for a few moments before murmuring, “Interesting.”

Interesting? That’s what he has to say for himself? 

_ Interesting _ ? 

Hong didn’t expect Yeosang to cry for him or some shit, but he had hoped for maybe a  _ little  _ shred of empathy. Yeo didn’t seem moved at all. Hongjoong’s stomach turns even more, feeling utterly ignored and trivialized by the other’s lack of care. Figures the creature of logic isn’t the best person to expect any sympathy out of. He regrets saying anything.

The rest of the shuttle’s descent goes by quietly. Before they know it, the shuttle is docked at the stratospheric transfer station. The floating mass of metal floats well above the surface, making for more efficient transfers onto the planet’s major continents. Hongjoong tries not to look as cloudy as he feels when they disembark, following Mingi to their transfer area.

The Venusian guides them a far way down the main corridor. They end up in an eerily deserted area of the transfer station. After harassing Mingi about misleading them, the rest of them end up eating their words when a chrome bot approaches them. 

Turns out their wing of the station is deserted because it’s for private transfers. Hongjoong’s eyes widen when the bot leads them to the gate. Through the panoramic viewing barriers, he can see their own private shuttle. He ends up gawking so much that Yunho has to yank him onto the boarding platform.

The eight of them load in, happily chattering away while the onboard AI goes over the rules and policies.

“We’ll be detaching from the station now,” The posh sounding voice says over the speakers. “Please remain seated for the initial descent toward. Welcome to Earth CL07075, Prince Mingi.”

“I-” “What-?!” “What did that thing just call you?”

“H-hah-!” Mingi coughs. “That must be a, uh, glitch. A joke, probably. Heh.”

“I think it’s cute,” Yunho coos. Hongjoong nearly rolls his eyes. Yeosang actually makes a gagging noise, which makes Joong feel a bit better about his gut reaction.

“Do we have to call you ‘your highness’ or some shit now?” Jongho jokes.

Mingi responds, “Actually, it’s your royal highness-”

“Shut up.”

“Hey,” Wooyoung cuts in with a smirk, “That’s shut up  _ your royal highness _ .”

“Thank you!” Mingi laughs.

“Yeah, like hell am I kissing anyone’s ‘royal’ ass,” Hongjoong laughs.

“Well good thing I’m not royalty- hah. Oh- look! There it is!” Mingi points out the window, and everyone clamors to his side - Hongjoong included.

The redhead throws out all of his contemplations and decides to actually enjoy the moment. He gasps softly as he takes in the scenery.

It truly looks like a picture, like a moving image or some hyperimmersive movie. Sunlight sparkles on the surface of the deep blue water, twinkling atop the dancing waves. The island itself bursts with lush greenery which crops out between narrow throughways for vehicles. Surrounding the landmass is a strip of immaculate looking white sand. The shuttle approaches more closely, and Hongjoong’s mouth lolls open when he sees the villa they’re going to be spending the weekend in.

Villa, while already sounding fancy by itself, doesn’t do the place justice. It’s not just a pretty house, oh no. It’s an estate complete with a private beach, a multi-ship landing pad, and groves of fruit trees.

Half of the group piles onto Mingi, hugging him and thanking him profusely. The loud choir of thank you’s continues until their ship touches down onto the private landing pad. The second the AI pilot deems it safe to disboard, the eight of them clamor toward the exit. 

Hongjoong dazedly follows, still too utterly gobsmacked by where he is to really function. He feels a hand close around his wrist (it turns out to be Yunho’s) and drag him along. The warm breeze carries the scent of salt and sea as the sun greets him with a warm hug. It invigorates him, helping him shake the wariness from travel. 

The landing is just paces from the grand two-story house. The white exterior makes it practically glow beneath the afternoon sun. A combination of pazcrete and polished glass, the geometric structure vastly juxtaposes against the lush green landscape. The shuttle landed them on the side, allowing them to see the grandiose driveway in front of the home, as well as the massive lawn behind that, eventually tapers off into the sand. Though the ocean is just a short walk away, the estate is equipped with a hovering glass pool floating just off of the second story deck. Because apparently the ocean isn’t enough for rich people, they need a pool, too. Hongjoong feels like it’d be rather awkward to sit underneath the thing. Though the water does cast intriguing shadows and highlights on the deck down below, he can’t imagine what it’d be like to look up and see someone’s legs and crotch. 

All of the glass makes half of the house entirely see-through. The light is, no doubt, stunning, but Hong prays that there are walls. Well insulated walls. The resident couple are un-fucking-bearable as is. Hongjoong sure as shit doesn’t want to see that going on when he’s trying to take a leak or something.

Though he questions the practicality, he has to concede it is rather pretty. Surely it’s equipped with screen functionalities or something to block the wealth of light. 

“Ocean!” San squeals, bringing Hongjoong back to earth. 

“It’s the ocean!” He shouts again, at the top of his lungs. The siren bounces giddily, probably extra excited at the reminder of his home. “It’s the ocea-aaahhh!”

Jongho suddenly scoops the siren up and makes a break for the beach.

“Oh shit.” “Ffu-” “Jongho, no!” Everything gets forgotten as they tunnel toward the beach, ditching their luggage on the ground. 

“Ahhh!” San screams as the youngest among them prepares to toss him into the sea (as if that would be a problem). 

“Wait for me!” Wooyoung yells after the two. He rushedly toes off the shoes he’d been wearing and throws his shirt off next. Inspired, everyone else begins to follow. 

The eight of them turn into a flurry of flailing limbs and flying clothes. In spite of the stresses and troubles that had been festering all morning, Hongjoong can’t help but laugh at their antics. Though he’s not inclined to strip like the others, he does follow them at his own pace. A smile spreads across his face as the insanity ensues.

_ “Splaaaaaash!” _ “Ahhh!” San yelps, delighted when he’s dropped into the water. The others follow, some leaping straight in while others trail behind more quietly. 

Hongjoong heaves a sigh.

“Okay,” He mutters to himself. “Okay.”

He takes another deep breath, and his worries start to gradually dissolve.

_ I’m going to have a good weekend _ , he tells himself. It’s okay.

  
Everything’s going to be okay.

It’s difficult for him to let go but he tries his damndest. After voicing his intention, his worries gradually begin to dissipate. He smiles, jogging to catch up with everyone else.

Maybe everything will be fine.

* * *

Yunho grins ear to ear, patting the seat of the hovercraft. Hongjoong winces.

“I have never seen you drive in my fucking life.”

“But I do have a permit,” The canis says, tail wagging. Mingi chuckles, sliding into the front seat next to Yunho. 

After playing around, the lot of them decided to settle in - well, slightly. The sun is beginning to dip in the sky. They’ve still got plenty of hours of daylight, but what they don’t have plenty of is food. The villa is stocked with all manner of things, but not vacation things. There are fresh citrus fruits and marindos from the orchards. The refrigerators are stocked with wine, any manner of water one could possibly want, and even handmade jam-tea. There is one thing lacking though.

Snacks.

The eight sure as hell didn’t go on vacation just to snack on fresh fruits and cheeses with names Hong can’t even pronounce. And so, with the permission of Mingi’s family friend, the group decided they’d venture out to a nearby island to shop. After Mingi insisted they had the pick of the herd, Yunho - the only one with some sort of driving permission - picked out their noble steed. They ended up with a candy apple red hovercraft with odd curvilinear lines apparently based on some post-ancient futurist aesthetic revival (a fun fact that, of course, Park Seonghwa felt the need to share). Yunho retracted the roof of the hovercraft, even turning off the barrier, insisting that they ride in the open air like their forebears. (“More like savages,” Yeosang said in response, horrified at the idea of zero-barrier travel.)

“I don’t know that all of us can fit in this thing,” Jongho says, noting the two rows of seating. Talk about vintage sensibilities. “Is it expandable at all?”

“You know what’s expandable?” Wooyoung posits, hopping into the back row of the vehicle.

“If you say y-”

“This  _ dic- _ ” 

“I want to go home now,” Their youngest sighs.

“Please don’t mind my boyfriend,” San says with a smirk. “He’s a whore.”

“Only with your blessing, love,” Wooyoung coos.

“And it best stay that way lest I rip that dick of yours off and use it to decorate my wall.”

“How pleasant,” Seonghwa chimes in, pulling a pained looking face.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “Can we all just load in already? I’m fucking starving.”

“Yeah, yeah.” “Ugh. Fine.” “I call the front row!”

The eight of them somehow load into the sex-seater. Their arrangement is precarious at best, but Hongjoong is fairly certain they won’t come toppling out. Probably. He’s more worried about the possibility of getting pulled over by PI. The legal merits of lap-sitting is murky at best.

_ “Buzzz- brrrrr…” _

The engine whirs to life, lifting the craft smoothly into the air. Hongjoong’s grip goes white-knuckled when Yunho accelerates. Most of the crowd just laugh and cheer giddily. Some cling to one another while a couple imprudently dangle over the edge. Beyond the beach,``` there’s a small island that supposedly has some shops and food. The idea of being over open water in an overloaded hovercraft mildly terrifies Hongjoong, but he tries to embrace it.

“Ahh!” “I can see the lights.” “Do you think I can touch the ocean?” “Don’t lean too much to one side.” “It’s fine, guys.” They all mutter cheerily among themselves. Hongjoong regrets picking a seat on the far end of the back row. Next to him, Yeosang’s holding onto Jongho tight, and the gentle rocking of the red craft constantly sends the youngest tumbling toward the leader’s lap. Hong supposes it beats being next to prettyboy on the other side; but still, he really wishes Yunho could have chosen a craft that can accommodate them comfortably.

The island across the sea gets bigger and bigger as they approach. Soon even neurotic Hongjoong finds his troubles melting away, thrilled at the new, strange place just beyond the horizon. The little lights glimmer like twinkling stars against the backdrop of the landmass’s jagged mountains. Behind the island, Hongjoong can still make out the remnants of sunset fading into darkness. A glowing rim of orange kisses the sea, gradiating into deep, dark azure above. The air is surprisingly calm above the sea. Hongjoong expected whipping whirlwinds - especially at the pace they’re going. However, the breeze is warm and pleasant, running through his hair, bringing salt to his nose and seafoam to his tongue. The hovercraft’s propulsion upsets the water in its wake, kicking up a trail of soft, frothy waves behind them.

After a while, even the incessant bickering of the people in the craft begins to fade to Hongjoong. He leans against the side of the craft, fingers grazing the kicked up mist from the ocean while he gazes into the distance.

It’s surreal to think that just earlier that day he’d been stuffing things into a bag in his bedroom. Now, he’s on an entirely different planet. One where the cares of his true life are so, so far away. The further he goes, the smaller they look, his troubles; so insignificant that even a fraction of minimal effort would surmount them. As a matter of fact, he can scarcely recall what he’d been fussing about in the first place. The faint remnant of something relating to “work” lingers there, but there’s something else, too. Something more. It’s deep-seated, something that Hongjoong is almost certain he’d been fussing about, something major.

Though normally the redhead would try his best to stay on top of things and remember, this time he… Can’t find it in himself to do so. A seductive voice whispers in his head, urging him to relax, to enjoy and indulge. Though not typically amenable to such things, everything is so nice. And what good would it be ruining the niceness with overthinking or stress?

Hongjoong heeds that voice in his head and relaxes his grasp on the major stressors of his life. The vague memories that he would normally try so hard to hold onto tight slip through his grasp like sand in an hourglass. The granules blow away, swept into the breeze until their eventual descent into the ocean’s depths.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Just relax.

They quickly approach the island, breaching the transition from sea to land without too much commotion. Once they hit the roadways, it’s a stark contrast from the remote, private estate from whence they came. The road runs along the shore, lined by towering palms and bushy shrubs.

The coastal town is worn at a glance. Sea and salt have eaten away at metal panels and wood signage. Neon projections flicker and glitch as they pass by. A few people are out and about, smoking on porches, shopping or playing cards, but overall it’s surprisingly sleepy. Not a big vacation spot, apparently.

Yunho pulls into the convenience store’s small lot carefully. His parking leaves a lot to be desired, but there’s pretty much nobody else at the place, anyway. The holographic sign above the place spins slowly, the chunky red font reading “CRESCENT STOP” with a moon logo.

“Please keep all hands and legs inside the ride until the vehicle has stopped moving,” Yunho says. The shiny red hovercraft lands with a jerking motion, and no sooner does the group start jumping out.

“Food, food, food, food~” “Let’s go-” “Wait- Is there booze in the house? Do they sell booze here?” “I wonder if they have melon bread…”

Stepping into the light-filled shop makes Hongjoong’s temples throb with pain. By the time he’s done adjusting to the sudden onset of light, everyone’s already fanned out.

Great.

Sure, Hongjoong knows he’s not technically the mother hen, he definitely  _ feels _ that way sometimes. He can already hear their loud voices echoing through the tall aisles of the place. Before urging them all to quiet down, he reminds himself he’s there to relax.

“Fuck it,” Hongjoong mutters to himself, walking off in a random direction.

Wooyoung cackles as he’s rolled through the aisles. He makes an effort to touch everything they pass by for some reason, occasionally even dumping contents into his lap. Yeosang prefers to hoverboard between the towering food storage structures, whipping around corners entirely too fast for Hong’s comfort. He damn near clips the shelf corners a few times, and Hongjoong can all too well imagine the result of Yeosang versus physics. Hongjoong prays that the c-store employs bots to do their cleaning. He’d hate to make a human responsible for their mess. At least they seem to be the only ones present. It makes the noise levels slightly less unacceptable.

The redhead walks the aisles a bit more strategically, actually reading the labels. Every planet has different brands which makes things difficult. A few staples manage to breach barriers of planetary atmospheres and even galactic sectors. Some of the large conglomerates sell the same stuff across different galaxies, simply slapping a different label on it. While rebranding seems easy, given that every planet and the planet’s continental regions has its own policies, it makes selling the same stuff across the board hard. Supposedly, the Coalition is supposed to make stuff more uniform, make it easier for things to translate from planet to planet. Hongjoong wouldn’t know anything about that, though. It just sounds like a lot of red tape to him. Given that he only recognizes a few things in the c-store, the GC’s policies appear to have done fuck all.

“Wake Up! - with an exclamation point,” Hongjoong murmurs, holding up a box of what appears to be cereal. It seems a bit aggressive and demanding for a breakfast cereal, but maybe that’s the type of stuff that reels folks in on CL07075. He skims the row of boxes neatly merchandised on the shelves: Treasure Trove (something that looks to be more marshmallow than cereal), Mad Ducks (the aggressive red coloring displayed on the box implies spice - weird), Get Up (an apparent generic knockoff of Wake Up!), K. Quakes (a typical sweet grainy flake situation), and - oh, this one’s good.

“Hong, what the fuck are you doing?” Yunho trots into the aisle, arms full of boxes and cartons. He’s got an ear to ear grin - the special kind of grin one gets when they know they’re going to feast on free food.

“Uh- Trying to find something lazy for breakfast. What are you doing?”

“Shopping.”

“You know they’ve got carts and stuff, right? Wooyoung is somewhere riding around in one.”

“I don’t need a cart.”

“Your long ass arms are almost overflowing with shit.”

“Eh. I’m fine.”

“I- Nevermind. You have any ideas for cereals? I don’t know what they’ve got on this planet.”

“Uh, no. No, not really. Something that pairs well with darkroz.”

“Wh- Booze? You’re gonna have booze for breakfast?”

“Duh. We’re on vacation.”

“Weren’t we going to try to get work done?”

“Boo, work. Yay vacation.”

Hongjoong laughs, lightly kicking the other. Yunho feints back, tyring to dodge, and ends up spilling half a dozen boxes onto the ground. The canis pouts as he awkwardly bends over to pick them up. Hongjoong doesn’t even have to say the “I told you so” at the tip of his tongue - Yunho knows him well enough to know that’s exactly what he’s thinking.

“Oh-! Found one,” Hongjoong laughs, plucking a loud, colorful cereal box off of the shelf. “Check this shit out.”

Yunho clutches his bounty tightly before obliging Hongjoong. The humecanis lets out a snicker when he reads the corny contents of the box.

“Oh no,” He mutters with a snicker.

“Oh yes,” Hongjoong reads off of the box: “ _ A Teenager Z _ \- everything teens want and  _ need- _ ”

“The need is important.”

“- from vitamin A to zinc.”

“I know  _ I’m  _ a teenager with  _ needs _ ,” Yunho jokes.

“Who-” Hong snorts, “-who came up with this?”

“I dunno what’s more worrying. The name or the design.”

“Didn’t you know? Teens like, um, graffiti.”

“And the color orange.”

“What I don’t get is where the pirate theme ties in. Why are there pirate flags in the picture?”

“I don’t know. And look there’s even the popout: eight different- wait, what? Hold on,” Hong squints in disbelief as he reads. “Eight different cereals come together to make one t-team to help teen bodies- this is so much.”

“This is indecisive is what it is. Eight? I bet they couldn’t decide on one.”

“But wait, there’s more,” Hongjoong turns the box over to check out the back. “Aw, now isn’t that cute. They’ve got little mascots. We could all pick one to represent ourselves.”

“Mm. Like a grainy zodiac. I call dibs on whoever has the most fiber.”

“Shut up,” The redhead laughs. The package’s backside dons a cartoony depiction of eight figures driving a flag into a pile of grain that looks like a sand dune triumphantly. Certainly there’s some evocative symbolism present about the benefits of different nutrients for the body or something. Hongjoong is sure he’d be able to discern it if not for the laughter bringing tears to his eyes.

The two devolve into a fit of laughter over a stupid fucking cereal box of all things, and it takes them a solid two or three minutes to come down. Hongjoong’s sides hurt when the brunt of it finally subsides. He wipes his wet eyes and sniffs, very seriously contemplating buying the cereal just for the laugh factor alone.

“Okay, but if we’re picking grains,” Yunho says, “You’re the one with the mullet.”

“A- I’m sorry?!” Hongjoong guffaws. He wipes his eyes to better see the silly drawing on the back of the packaging. He’s shocked to see that Yunho wasn’t lying - some member of the grain gang actually has a mullet. The redhead isn’t sure his sides can take more. Something else on the box catches his attention before he can fall victim to another fit, though. “One of them has a tail like you.”

“Hm? Where?”

“Right, um, there- See? That’s so weird.”

“Whoa. Cereal box representation!”

“Now that I think of it, he kind of looks like you, doesn’t he? And that one! Look at the face! Those are dimples just like San.”

“Okay, you’re bullshitting now.”

“No, I’m serious. Look!”

“-im Hongjooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-” Wooyoung’s high-pitched screech prevails above all else. The man’s got a set of impressive lungs, to that Hongjoong can attest. The redheads ear’s ring as Wooyoung effortlessly sustains the steady squeal. He gets louder and louder as San runs him down the aisle.

Suddenly, any thoughts about cereal or breakfast get thrown out in favor of self-preservation. San bounds down the aisle pushing the cart (with Wooyoung) toward the other two at a near sprint. It gives Hongjoong and Yunho mere seconds to swandive the hell out of the way before they get barrelled down by a very loud, hyper WooSan. Wooyoung’s voice is almost like a siren, getting louder and higher as he approaches. Thankfully, Hongjoong presses himself against the wall on time. Yunho manages to not only dodge but dump all of the boxes he’d been holding in Wooyoung’s lap as they passed by.

“Ooooooo-ah! Ow!” Wooyoung’s scream comes to an abrupt halt as he doubles over, clutching his abdomen in the cart. San respectfully slows down, quickly going from laughter to worry. His concern lasts about two seconds until Wooyoung whines: “Yunho, my children!”

“Serves you right for trying to run us over!” The canis smirks.

“If I become infertile after this, I’m blaming you!” Woo retorts.

“Didn’t know you two were trying for babies so soon. You’re not gonna ask him to marry you first?” Hongjoong asks sarcastically. Wooyoung gasps, scandalized, and San turns scarlet.

“We all know San would ask first,” Yunho replies. “Wooyoung’s too chicken.”

“Wha- No I’m not! I would totally ask San to marry me first. Right, San?”

“Sure, honey,” San laughs, the wavering of his tone almost nervous sounding.

“See? San agrees!”

“You all disgust me!” Jongho laughs from around a corner. His voice easily carries in the empty store.

“Cool!” “Thanks.” “Good.” A few responses echo across the shop.

Getting the group in order is not unlike herding kittens. Every time three or four of them gather in one spot, the rest of them disperse. The cycle repeats itself a few times until finally their youngest pipes up, lamenting how hungry he is. Hongjoong has never witnessed a cranky, hungry Jongho and he sure as hell doesn’t want to. They make way to the pay window where an old but well-maintained robot takes their credits with programmed politeness.

The trip ends up going relatively well. Not too much petty crime is committed and no PI officers pull them over which is a boon. Considering that two fights nearly broke out over music choice, things looked fairly sketchy halfway across the ocean. In spite of his "I swear I'm not gonna worry" policy, Hongjoong definitely got a mental image of somebody getting dumped into the blue sea because they prefer ITZY to NCT 3098.

By the time they return, the sun's already set. They're heralded back to the private shore by light beacons at the estate line. Yunho brings the vessel in with relative ease, parking on the glossy deck on the lower level.

"Hell yeah." "Let's GO." "I'm fucking starving." "We ought to choose bedrooms..." The group mutters as they disembark. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the house part automatically at their approach. The panels fold like accordions, integrating the immaculate living area indoors with the deck out. From a hallway to the side of the room, a sleek, shiny robot emerges. The glimmering chrome machine floats smoothly across the floor toward them.

"Welcome home, Master Song and guests," Their voice is high-pitched and proper sounding. It has an accent of sorts, and Hongjoong wonders if that's just the dialect of the locals or some preference of the purchasers. "I see you've purchased some foodstuffs and sundries. Would you like me to put them away for you?"

Hongjoong's gut reaction is a hearty "no, that's fine". Even though the servant is mechanical, it's still immensely weird to him. He can't imagine living like this every day. Is this normal? Not even Seonghwa had a mechanical servant. Something about being waited on feels wrong, but he reminds himself that it  _ is _ a robot literally built to do that. It'd probably be worse to leave the poor thing hanging. Then it would just be bored... Or, it wouldn't be, he supposes. Before he can go off on another mental tangent, the bags he'd been holding are taken from his hands. The redhead decides not to question it and tries to shake the thoughts from his head.

He's been doing that a lot.

He feels like he's been getting lost in thought a ton. Is that... Normal for him? Because he feels like it isn't, but what's even stranger is the part of him that feels like he doesn't know. Like he's forgotten something about himself.

What he does know is that he seems to live in his head of late. His mind is constantly reeling and running, going around in circles. He finds himself getting lost in completely inane, pointless tangents. It's easier to write off when he's sitting in class or doing homework, but even surrounded by his best friends at some beautiful villa on vacation, his mind still wanders. It makes his heart ache with worry.

Why can he not just enjoy things with his friends? Why can't he live in the moment? 

What is going on?

"Hey, ground control to Hongjoong." Yunho waves his hand in front of Hongjoong's face.

Apparently, his rambling is just as visible on the outside as it is in.

"Hm?" Hongjoong blinks confusedly.

Everyone else had already stepped inside. A few of them lean over the kitchen island, chatting animatedly, while a couple of others are making their way back out.

"Hey, is something troubling you?" Yunho steps closer, lowering his voice.

Hongjoong sighs, "I- I dunno. I mean. No. Nothing is, but I... I guess I've been zoning out a lot. It's weird, it's like my body's here, but my brain is just-" He makes a wide, swooping gesture in illustration.

"Well-" The canis wraps his arms around Hongjoong loosely, "-I'll hold you extra tight so you don't float away."

"Ugh- Get off of me-!" Hongjoong's words speak to protest, but his laughter betrays him.

"No."

"Stop- Fuck you're so heavy. Why are you so heavy?"

"It's the weight of my sins."

Hongjoong lowers his voice, "C'mon, you don't wanna make Mingi jealous, do you?"

Yunho responds by digging his fingers in Hongjoong's side. The redhead lurches, jolted by the shocking, ticklish sensation. The canis gives him a pat on the shoulder before walking off to join the others at the kitchen island (Mingi among them, of course). Hongjoong decides to join them while the kitchen bot finishes up their noodles.

He doesn't know that he's ever experienced something so ridiculous; a sleek, chrome servebot cooking up convenience store ramyun. The cost of the robot could probably buy an instant noodle factory. Yet, there they are, gathering around a white onyx table, eager and ready to feast on processed, oversalted, fast-frozen food.

The bot's kind voice announces, "Your spicy noodles are ready. Which table would you prefer to be served on?"

"This one is fine," Mingi doesn't miss a beat delivering the order. Maybe he's used to it, Hongjoong ponders. The stragglers at the island clamor over, rushedly hopping into chairs. Happy chatter echoes loudly across the kitchen as the bot carts over the plates like some modern-day butler.

Hongjoong reminds himself to live in the moment before his mind starts wandering again. It's nice to see everyone sitting around the table - like a family during a holiday, almost. They're his university family. The dynamic even includes the one distant cousin who's an ass that he hates. Just like a real family!

Something strikes him at the sight of it.

The eight of them, sitting around the table, some happily gabbing, others content to sit back quietly like Hongjoong. It feels homey.

Familiar.

He feels like he's watched this scene play out before. The eight of them sitting around the table like this...

Where has he seen this before?

It's not the same as club; it's different with Seonghwa being present, too. Maybe that's what it is, Hongjoong thinks, maybe it's just so similar to any other time they've gotten together, the addition of Seonghwa doesn't matter.

Hongjoong tries to shove the inane thoughts away before he can get lost again. Conversation bounces around the table like a rubber ball - or a dozen of them. Their words overlap, weaving twixt one another and miraculously landing in the proper ears. Wooyoung jokingly tries to rope Yeosang into a threesome while Seonghwa gently prods Mingi about life on Venus.

“So, what do we wanna do first tomorrow?” Jongho asks the table. He sniffles a bit from the spiciness of his noodles. 

“Ooh- We have to go to the beach!” Wooyoung bounces excitedly. “I mean- Look at the water!”

“Ah- Yes, please,” San agrees fervently.

“Uh-” Hongjoong frowns, “We have work to do, too, you know.”

“But we have a long weekend,” Wooyoung frowns.

“Can’t we, like, take a day off and then do stuff the next day?” Jongho responds.

“What? It makes more sense to do the work first then dick around,” Hongjoong mutters.

“Why don’t we work in the morning and then play in the afternoon,” Yeosang proposes.

“I’d rather just get a good amount done,” The leader says.

“We still have more than two weeks, though,” Mingi sighs.

“I agree with him,” Of all people Seonghwa pipes up in accordance with Hongjoong. Though Hong can’t immediately sense any ill intent, it still rubs him the wrong way to be on the same side as the unbearable blond. His color turns suddenly.

“You know what,” Hongjoong says, “I think Yeosang’s idea is a good compromise. Let’s get at least a little bit of work done in the morning, then I don’t care.”

“Yay!” “Ha.” “Nice!” “Thank you, leader~”

The redhead sighs in defeat. 

They’ll definitely get stuff done. There’s definitely time for fun and work. Sure, it can be difficult to keep everyone on task, but he’s not too worried. Things will definitely happen. He’ll make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> // thank u for reading!!! i hope u enjoy!


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